


Option C

by followyourenergy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Roommate, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plotting, Roommates, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22173241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followyourenergy/pseuds/followyourenergy
Summary: Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak thought that their senior year of college would be the best year of their lives—until they find out the apartment they’re renting has also been rented to someone else. Given three options, they choose option C—live together for the year and make it work.When roommate Vaughn turns out to be a conceited jerk with very different political views and values, best friends Dean and Cas scheme to push him out...by any means necessary. Those means become an elaborate game of fake-relationship antics, which would be fine if Dean wasn’t secretly in love with Cas and Cas hadn’t sworn off dating friends.As the games escalate, will Dean be able to cope with the feelings that just won’t go away? And will Cas stick with his vow, or will his feelings force him to find another option?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1872
Kudos: 1111
Collections: Mixtape Book Club Podcast - Discussed Fics, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Options

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies! You had so many wonderful options for your reading pleasure today...thank you for choosing this one. 😘 
> 
> This story will update weekly on Fridays.
> 
> Please note that there will be some references to homophobia, as well as some political references that clearly have a certain bent to them. (If you’re a fan of Trump, it’s probably not the story for you, though that’s not the focus of the story. Cas and Dean are NOT fans, and their roommate is. Cas has opinions. 😂)
> 
> That said, enjoy this tropey bit of fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to the little title pic I made, check out the lovely photo art that @Angeleyz4ever felt inspired to make! Look at those eyes! Their photo art appears throughout the work. Thank you, Angel! 😘

“So fucking psyched to be out of the damn dorms,” Dean Winchester says to his roommate and best friend, Cas Novak, as they pull into a parking space. “When we’re done unpacking shit, we should see if Charlie and Jo are home and drag them out to grab food. Think we’ll be too beat to cook. We’ll make ‘em go to Target with us, too.”

“Target? For what?

“Food, TP, knick-knacks, that shit. Gotta eyeball furniture, too, obviously.” 

“Knick-knacks?” Cas raises an imperious brow. “ _Why_ do we need knick-knacks?”

Dean rolls his eyes at his too-practical friend. “To make it homey, homie.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, homeslice.”

“Dean.”

“What’s the matter, my biffle?”

A growl rumbles in Cas’ throat.

Dean chuckles at his friend. He enjoys riling him up, but knows when to stop. “Okay, sorry.”

“It’s bad enough you call me ‘buddy.’”

“Sorry, sorry.” He knows Cas isn’t fond of that term, though he’s not sure why. Still, Dean has to call him _something_ , and he sure as hell can’t jump into dangerous territory like _sweetheart_. Much as he’d like to.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t be mad, dawg.”

Cas heaves a long-suffering sigh as Dean tries to look sorry (and fails, given Cas’ arched brow). “ _Why_ am I living with you again?” he asks.

“‘Cause you only find me mildly repulsive?”

“Hey. Don’t say that about yourself.”

Dean rolls his eyes. For as much as Cas gives him shit, he won’t give him shit about the important things, nor will he let Dean give himself shit about the same. Dean pretends to be annoyed about it, but secretly he’s grateful. 

They each take a large breath and smile at each other. This is what they’ve both wanted since they started rooming together sophomore year—a place of their own, away from the noise and the beehive of communal living. Finally, they’ll have someplace where they don’t have to wear flip-flops into the shower to prevent athlete’s foot or listen to people screaming down the hall at all hours. “Best year of our lives, Cas,” Dean says, resting a hand on his thigh, which is also dangerous territory, but he can’t seem to help himself. “Let’s get it.”

He jumps out of his beater car and waits for his best friend, his hand still tingling with the warmth of the illicit touch. Not that the touch was against Dean’s rules. Nor, he supposes, was the touch against Cas’ rules. Rather, what Dean would like the touch to mean is against Cas’ rules. Or rule. There’s only one, really, but it’s a doozy: Cas doesn’t date friends.

He didn’t always have this rule. He only made it last year, in fact. But he had the shittiest timing Dean could ever imagine. 

They’ve been roommates since sophomore year, meeting in their freshman year and becoming the best of friends almost immediately. Dean was instantly smitten by the blue-eyed shy guy—in a totally bromantic way at first, but later, not so much. He wishes he hadn’t been such a chicken shit and at least tried to tell him that he was interested, but by the time they both got their shit together and Dean felt ready to take a chance (a big leap, considering his own shit and his own little rule he’s struggled with since knowing Cas), the Grayson thing happened, which made him swear off dating friends. He’s been harboring a major crush ever since. Probably more than a crush, but he tries not to dwell on that. Dwelling makes it significant, and real, and more painful. 

Not that being his roommate will be a walk in the park. In fact, sharing a living space that feels so much like a real home, not just a semi-permanent sleepover, will probably make things even harder. But at least he doesn’t have to worry about Cas dating. Well, dating a friend. There’s a chance he could find a random stranger and start dating them, or start using a dating app, or turn a hookup into something more…

Nope, not dwelling on that, either.

Dean notices that Cas is still in the car. He knocks on the window. “Hey, McDreamy, you comin’ or what?”

Cas rolls down his window. “Sorry,” he smiles, chagrined. Dean smiles back softly. He gets lost in thought sometimes. It’s fucking cute, though he’s sure as hell not going to be telling him that any time soon.

They make their way into the office to collect their keys. Dean’s eyes roam the space, catching on the various signs and notices on a peeling, sun-faded corkboard, while they wait for someone to come around. 

A woman emerges from a door behind the desk and greets them with a smile. “Hey there! Can I help you? You boys look like students, so before you ask, I’ll tell you that all of our apartments are rented out. Gotta act fast if you want an apartment near the university.”

“And right on the bus route, too,” Dean smiles, pouring on the charm. If other people feel at ease, he feels more comfortable, too. “But, luckily for us, we already have a place here. Just comin’ to pick up keys.”

“Oh,” she says, squinting. “I don’t remember you.”

“That’s because we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. Dean Winchester.” He holds a hand out to shake, which she takes. “And this is my very quiet, very neat, not-at-all-a-dog-in-disguise best friend.”

“Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you,” his friend says, offering his hand as he shoots Dean a puzzled glance. Dean points to the sign on the corkboard, proclaiming _No Pets Allowed in Appartments for Any Reason_ , and smirks. He knows Cas will notice the spelling error immediately and it’ll bug the shit out of him. Cas rolls his eyes at him, which is acknowledgement enough. He laughs. 

Cas turns back to the woman. “I’m sorry about him. He thinks he’s amusing.”

Dean punches him lightly on the shoulder.

The woman laughs at the banter between the friends. “I’m Jilly McIntyre. What apartment are you in?”

“Apartment 93,” they say together. Her friendly smile droops. 

“Harry is expecting us, if that helps,” Cas adds.

“Give me a minute.” She grabs a walkie-talkie from its station and steps outside. 

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Dean mutters, feeling both his charm and his good mood slowly slipping away. 

“It’ll be okay. It’s probably just a miscommunication,” Cas assures him, clasping his shoulder. Dean smiles, his mood and his heart both lighter. Cas is always there to rescue him when his thoughts take a nosedive. He’s saved him from his own personal hell more than once. Dean’s rescued him a few times, too. They’re good for each other, Dean thinks to himself for the millionth time. 

He wishes Cas could see it, too.

* * *

As they wait for Harry, Cas’ mind wanders to Dean, as it often does. 

Dean is, by a mile, his best friend, and there’s no one he’d rather be sharing an apartment with. He hadn’t made friends easily in childhood, preferring to stand back and watch from the sidelines rather than throw himself into a bunch of people and hope for the best. He’d vowed to make college different, but the first few weeks he fell into the same patterns, not having enough support or experience to make any meaningful movement. That all changed when he had to interview someone from the LGBTQIA Alliance on campus for his Gender and Sexuality class. There he met Charlie, his interviewee, and that rocked his world in all the best ways. They became fast friends and she pulled him out of his shell, convincing him not only to join the Alliance but also to join the Peer Education program. They specialized in Sexuality, and the two of them went to dorms and gave talks about whatever the Resident Advisors wanted—usually about safer sex, STIs, or the sexuality spectrum. They met Dean at one of their particularly rowdy talks. He was fun, and nice, and definitely cute, and Cas was proud that he managed not to freeze up completely when Dean spoke to them afterwards. He attributes this to both the fact that he’d been hanging out with Charlie enough to have a smidgen of confidence and the fact that he’d just started dating his (now former) friend Jordan, so there was no pressure to think of Dean as potential for anything more. Dean, gregarious as he was, took care of the rest, and invited himself to go with them for pizza. That was the beginning of a friendship that grows stronger every day. Of course, other things have since grown stronger, too, but Cas has to ignore those. He’s tried the whole friendship-to-relationship thing, and he sure as hell isn’t going to ruin what he has like he ruined those.

Sometimes it’s tempting, though. Like earlier, when Dean’s hand landed on his thigh. Or now, when Dean looks so worried. It would be nice to hold Dean and comfort him, or kiss the nervous pout off his face, or simply hold his hand and worry along with him. 

But he can’t. So they wait, together but alone.

A guy who looks about their age comes in and swings the door closed behind him unceremoniously. “Hey,” he greets them with a tilt of his chin. He’s dressed in pressed olive khakis and a cream button-down shirt. His hair is neat, his eyes alert—from caffeine or energy drinks, probably. Dean gives the same sort of casual greeting, but Cas stares and scrutinizes him. The guy gives off a vibe that has Cas’ hackles up. Dean elbows him, a silent rebuke to _behave_ and _stop scaring people_ (as is a habit of his, Dean tells him) and Cas averts his eyes, giving only a short, tight wave. 

Jilly walks back in, accompanied by the landlord, Harry, with whom they’d signed the lease. Cas feels Dean relax next to him, and he relaxes, too. They have that effect on each other. His ease is short-lived, however, when he sees they’re arguing. Dean tenses up and leans toward Cas; Cas steps closer to him, allowing their shoulders to bump. 

“Well, these are the things I keep telling you to tell me!” Jilly gripes.

“Interesting, because you never told me you offered the apartment to Vaughn. _That’s_ a conversation I would’ve remembered having.”

They bicker as the three men watch the goings-on. The guy next to them crosses his arms and flicks his eyes at the ceiling. 

As Dean squirms uncomfortably (poor guy’s always had a tough time with conflict), Cas speaks up. “Excuse me, is there a problem? We have a copy of the lease we signed in the truck if you need it…” He heads for the door, but Harry’s voice stops him. 

“No, son, I know you signed a lease. Seems me and the wife had our wires crossed.” He scowls at her, and she returns it. “I rented to you boys, and she rented to our nephew and his friend.” 

Cas’ gut sinks. Dean’s face falls. 

“These boys signed back in February, Jill.”

“You don’t kick out family, Harry. He’s our nephew.”

They have a silent argument with their eyes. Dean looks at Cas, Cas looks back, and they make a silent agreement with theirs. _No way we’re giving this up without a fight._

“Well, I’m not budging. Wouldn’t be fair, you know it wouldn’t. I’m not getting a reputation for goin’ back on my word. These kids got the place fair and square.”

“Well, I’m not budging, either.”

“No surprise there.”

The woman glares at him, and they continue their silent argument. Dean stares at the floor, Cas stares at the spelling error on the sign (it’s so _irritating_ —spell check exists, people), and the other guy stares at his hands and taps his foot. 

The couple seems to come to some decision, and Jilly turns to the three of them. “Well, apparently there’s been an error. So, as I see it, you have three options: Option A, you two find someplace else to live.” She points to Cas and Dean. “Option B, you and your roommate find someplace else to live.” The man—Dean figures he must be Vaughn—looks piqued at this suggestion. “Option C, you all live together for the year and make it work. You can share bedrooms. We’ll even lower the rent a little to make it up to you.”

Cas mutters “There’s an option L” under his breath, but Dean speaks over him and drags him outside. 

“Don’t start talking about lawyers, Mr. Everyone-In-My-Family-Is-A-Lawyer. That freaks people out. We want to keep this place. We don’t need them finding a reason to kick us to the curb.”

“It’s not right. We clearly signed the lease first, if I understood their argument correctly. We could press them on this. It’s a clear violation of our lease, and nepotism besides.”

“You think they care about that? That guy was treading on thin ice as it was. She looked like she was gonna kick his ass to the couch, and if he’s like most husbands, he’d cave rather than let that happen. The law of ‘happy wife, happy life’ far surpasses contract law or whatever.”

Cas folds his arms and huffs. “‘You have three options,’” he mocks the landlady. “Why do we have to suffer because they don’t communicate?”

“Suffer? Thanks a lot,” Dean teases, nudging Cas’ chin. 

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, fighting a blush at Dean’s touch.

“Yeah, yeah. Look at it this way, though. We’ll still have more space than we had before, and we’re used to sharing a room. We lived with other people before we roomed together, plus all the people in the dorms, and we probably won’t even see the guy and his roommate that much. Hey, maybe we’ll even be friends. That’d be cool, right? It would make a funny story. Plus Charlie and Jo live right below us. Besides, classes are starting soon and the dorms and apartments in the area are filled. I don’t wanna be separated from you.”

Cas sighs. He doesn’t want that, either.

“Come on. Best year of our lives. We can still have it. Okay?”

Dean’s always been good at calming his temper. Cas relents. “Okay, fine.”

“Thanks, my biffle.”

“Stop talking like that.”

Cas can’t help but grin when Dean flashes him his victory smile. Like everyone else, he’s always been susceptible to Dean’s boyish charm. 

They head inside. “We’ll accept option C,” Cas says, in his most serious voice. He sees Dean squirm in his periphery. He hopes he isn’t making him too uncomfortable. 

“And that is what is called compromise, Vaughn,” Harry says pointedly to his nephew. 

“Fine.” He snatches the keys from Jilly, turns on his heel, and storms out the door. 

Dean side-eyes Cas. “Maybe not friends,” he mouths. Cas chuckles silently.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says as Jilly disappears through the door she came through earlier. “He’s her sister’s only kid, and we ain’t got any of our own. Unfortunately, that boy’s as entitled as they come. He needs to grow up. We sort of disagree on how to handle him, though. She’s of the ‘give him enough love and chances’ opinion, and I’m of the ‘give him a dose of reality’ opinion. Thought college would help him get himself together, but…Well, anyway, don’t let ‘im push you around.” He dangles two sets of keys in front of them. “Here ya go. The silver one’s for your door, and the gold one’s for the laundry room. Laundry’s in the basement, you remember. Rent’s due the first of the month.”

“Yes, sir,” Cas says. He digs his wallet out and hands the man a pre-written check for next month’s rent, the first from the joint account they recently opened for their living expenses. Dean had seemed happy to see both their names on the blue safety paper of the checks. It made Cas happy, too, for reasons he chose to ignore.

“More than what’s needed now that you’re sharing,” Harry comments. “I’ll credit you for next month, sound good?”

They agree and Harry writes them a receipt. 

“Tell Jilly no hard feelings,” Dean says. 

Cas still has hard feelings. He sets his jaw. Dean kicks him in the foot, clearly wanting him to play nice. Cas nods and smiles in agreement. The wallet takes the brunt of his feelings instead as he shoves it away. 

“She’ll appreciate that. We do feel bad.”

“Shit happens,” Dean grins with a dismissive shrug. Harry relaxes and smiles. Cas admires the way Dean’s always able to put people at ease and get them on his side. It’s easy to like Dean. _Too easy_ , he thinks ruefully. He’d hoped the extra space and separate bedrooms in the apartment would help his feelings dissipate. It won’t be so easy now.

The men walk out of the office and to Dean’s car. They look down the road toward their apartment building, where Cas’ truck is already parked, and exhale at the same time. “So, Option C. Ready?” Dean asks.

“Ready,” Cas answers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun start, I hope! So, think they’ll be friends? I think not. 😂


	2. An Intolerable Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s see how that living together thing is going!

So far, Dean and Cas have the following opinions of Vaughn Reynolds:

  1. He’s an asshole.
  2. He’s stuck up.
  3. He’s going to be impossible to live with.
  4. He’s _really_ an asshole.



They’ve been living with him exactly twenty-four hours, and Dean isn’t sure how much more he can take, never mind his poor best friend. 

“Told you we should’ve gone for option L,” Cas grouses as they arrange the things they bought last night at Target in their room.

This is one of those times when Dean doesn’t mind hearing Cas’ “I told you so,” because he’s completely right. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that much dick could fit in one guy.”

Despite his obvious irritation, Cas laughs. “I don’t think Vaughn goes for dick, and I sure as hell can’t imagine any guy who’d wanna stick theirs in him. Not even you.”

“Eww,” Dean shudders, “and whaddaya mean, not even me?”

“I’ve seen some of the people you’ve stuck your dick in.”

“Excuse you, we’ve stuck our dicks in some of the same guys.”

“At the same time? Well, now, wouldn’t that have been fun?” Cas laughs again, and Dean shoves him onto his bed. Of course, now he’s thinking of Cas sticking a guy from behind while Dean’s feeding his dick into the guy’s mouth, the two of them kissing above him, and he can’t get the picture out of his mind. It’s similar to a porno he watched the other night, except the guys didn’t kiss. He shoves Cas again when he stands up from his bed, just for making his mind go there.

“Yeah, well, _I_ didn’t do Luc.”

“Yeah, well, _that_ was one very, _very_ intoxicated mistake, and I learn from my mistakes. Case in point: Ferg. I only did him once, too, also while drunk, mind you. _You_ , however—”

“Don’t remind me,” Dean groans. Cas hates the reminder of his hookup with that egotistical prick Luc, which is exactly why he’s bringing up Dean’s brief, regrettable tryst with Cas’ freshman year roommate. An eye for an eye and all that.

“You had to go all Summer of Love on him,” Cas finishes with a smirk.

“It was three weeks, and only ‘cause he got the good alcohol.”

“Demon alcohol,” Cas chuckles. 

“It was, too, fuck,” Dean shudders. “Never again, on either front.”

“Lose with booze, get screwed with sex.”

“Amen.” They bump fists. 

The phrase became one of their mantras after sophomore year, when their hookups and their drinking were at their peak. Cas had once told him he thought all that stuff would loosen him up and help him “find himself”. Toward the end of that year, though, all he found was himself in danger of losing his scholarships, and pretty unhappy besides. Dean found himself in the same boat. They pulled several all-nighters before finals, and Cas passed them all with flying colors (Dean, too, and Cas was even more proud of Dean than himself, which still makes Dean all warm and squirmy). When he visited Cas in his hometown that summer, Cas vowed to make the changes about himself that he wanted to make without the partying and dicking around. Dean said he’d do the same. “For solidarity,” Dean had said, but in truth he scared himself with his own partying ways and promiscuity, both reminding him of his father. Their junior year was marked with much more calm and quiet, having tamed their ways, and when they each turned 21, they celebrated with only a couple of drinks, some good food, a few friends, and no hookups. 

The only tumultuous time either of them had that year was Cas’ doomed second relationship, with Grayson. Dean helped him through that one, too, like he did after Jordan. It felt harder to Dean that time, though—because he knew Cas so much better by then and hated to see him hurting, or because Cas blamed himself so much, or maybe because that was when he made his stupid rule. But Cas came through, and they were stronger than ever after that. Dean knows they could make it through anything. 

“We’ve made it through a lot. We’ll make it through living with Vaughn,” Dean assures his best friend. 

“Yeah. I know.” 

When Cas smiles softly at him, Dean smiles back in kind, glad that his grouchiness is about their living situation and not about him specifically. “What the fuck crawled up his ass and died, though, right?”

Cas shook his head. “I have no idea. I can’t believe he ditched his roommate.” 

When they started moving their things in yesterday, they discovered Vaughn all alone in the apartment, already unloading his things into the larger bedroom. They found out that night that he told the other guy who was supposed to move in to take a hike. Apparently he didn’t want to share his space.

“Kinda thinking he’s the lucky one in all this.”

“You’re probably right.”

Dean sighs. “Well, can’t eat out every day to avoid him. Let’s go make our first real meal at our new place. Wanna make burgers?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment since we decided to get an apartment together,” Cas grins. “I’ll make potato salad.”

Dean starts to feel a spring in his step. No, he isn’t crazy about the new roommate so far, but this is his and Cas’ place, too, and this guy isn’t going to ruin it for them. They get to work, both of them laughing as he helps Cas cube the potatoes. This isn’t their first time cooking together. Dean was used to eating well at home and cooking some awesome meals, and he insisted that they didn’t have to be stuck with ramen and Spaghettios when the dining halls were closed. Cas was always game to try, so they tried it all, from hash browns in a waffle maker and eggs in a nest using the microwave and toaster (pretty good) to taco in a bag (easier to buy them at Taco Bell) and risotto cups (no), and no matter how they turned out, they had fun. This, he thinks, will be no different, and maybe even more fun, since they have a real oven and a large fridge to keep their food in. 

“Keep it down,” their roommate calls from the living room. “I’m trying to watch this, and I can’t if you clowns are yakking it up in there.”

Dean shoots Cas a wide-eyed look; Cas rolls his eyes to the ceiling. He looks like he’s praying for strength. Dean knows _he_ is. “Sorry, man,” Dean apologizes, though it kills him. Vaughn doesn’t answer.

They cook quietly, less joy in their actions than before. Dean notices Cas’ nostrils flare a few times. He’s pissed, for sure. Vaughn sort of reminds Dean of Cas’ brother, Michael. He’s only met him a couple of times, but man, is he a dick. Cas said his father was the same way, from what his siblings told him and what little he remembers before his mom kicked his ass out. Maybe that’s what’s eating at Cas. He bumps Cas with his hip a few times until he cracks a smile that he tries to hide by furrowing his brows in concentration as he peels the shells from hard-boiled eggs. A sense of pride fills his chest; _he_ made Cas smile. It’s hard to do, especially when he’s in a snit. If they were dating, he’d probably have nuzzled his neck to get the same result. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Huh?”

“What are you thinking about? You’re smiling.”

Dean scrambles to think of something to say. “Uh, Harper Sayles. She’s so hot.”

“Liar,” Cas murmurs, laughing quietly. 

Dean knows he’s been caught. Harper lived in their dorm their sophomore and junior years and was, for lack of a better term, crazy. They avoided her as much as possible. He plows on, though, if only to distract Cas from his original question. “Come on. You’d do her, admit it.”

“I don’t get that drunk or desperate anymore.”

“We could do her together,” Dean jests, referring to their earlier conversation. It’s stupid and pointless, but he can’t help it. He can’t let go of the image of a threesome with Cas. Or, if he’s honest with himself, a twosome, just them. The third person isn’t necessary.

“I think it’s the only chance of either one of us coming out of it alive,” Cas jokes. He starts singing “Maneater,” a song Dean knows from commercials selling 80s music. Dean cackles and Vaughn gripes again. Cas sneers behind his back, which amuses Dean but also makes him worry. 

“Listen, we’re stuck with him, so let’s just...try,” Dean soothes him in a whisper, laying a hand on Cas’ very warm, very bare arm. Louder, he calls toward the living room, “Hey, Vaughn, you want some of this when we’re done?”

“Nope. Not eating any of your shit,” he calls back. “And don’t use my table. I might have to live with you, but I sure as hell don’t have to share.”

Dean chews on his tongue, working hard to push away the feelings he always gets with these kind of people—weak, inadequate, defeated. He turns to Cas with a sunny smile. “More for us,” he says, trying to make a joke out of it. 

Cas looks like he’s about to go biblical on Vaughn’s ass.

“Dude, drop it,” Dean whispers.

Cas turns to him, righteous indignation mixed with protectiveness and this _look_ that Cas always gives him, one that Dean often wishes was more than simply the affection of friendship. His nostrils flare again, and he’s balling his hands so tightly that Dean’s sure his fingernails are leaving crescents in his palms. 

“Drop it,” Dean warns him again. “Please.” 

Cas does, but he’s not happy about it..

“It’s not right,” Cas mouths, giving him that look once more before shaking his head and turning his attention toward the meal they’re preparing. Dean stares at the back of his head for a moment before doing the same.

They finish cooking and eat standing at the counter, Vaughn shooting them looks the entire time. Their food is delicious, even in its simplicity. Dean knows this is only the first of many awesome dinners they’ll have together, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Well, he _could_...he _would_ be, for sure, if Baron von Douchenozzle wasn’t living with them. He sighs to himself. He tries to cheer up by telling himself what his mom told him—that it’ll get better after a few days, once they all get used to each other. He’s sure the guy has his reasons for being as pissy as he’s being. 

But after four more days, it doesn’t get better. In fact, it’s worse.

The day after their first dinner, they asked Vaughn to sit with them to talk about expectations, decorating the apartment, that sort of thing, but he wouldn’t do it until tonight, five days after they moved in together and the night before classes start. It didn’t go well. He insisted that only _he_ could use the furniture he brought (which was damn near everything, Cas and Dean only bringing their beds, dressers, and desks, figuring they’d wait until they moved in to buy the rest), told them that he didn’t cook and thus wouldn’t do dishes, and that they’d better clean up after themselves because he “won’t tolerate a pigsty because you guys get lazy.” Cas, normally quiet and (somewhat) even-tempered, barely kept his shit together. 

“We should be paying less than him,” Cas hisses as they lie in their twin beds in their shared room, talking in the dark. It’s something they’ve done since they started rooming together, and it’s familiar and comforting. “He has an entire bedroom to himself. We have to share, and we don’t even get to use his precious furniture. We ought to pay less. A lot less.”

“I’m not giving him something to hold over our heads. If he pays a little more, he’ll think he has, like, majority share or something like that. No fucking way. He’s the type to use any little thing like that to his advantage.”

Cas grunts but agrees. “He’s completely out of his mind. I’ve never met anyone so narcissistic.”

“Not even Mikey-boy?”

“My brother is a close second.”

“Luc?”

“Up there, too, but I didn’t have to put up with his shit except for our one class together and a twenty minute fuck.”

“Wow, TMI, Cas.”

“Since when?”

_Since I’d give anything to have a twenty minute fuck with you._ He ignores the question and says instead, “Well, now that we know what von Douchenozzle’s about, it can’t get worse, right?”

* * *

The giant Donald Trump cut-out and Make America Great Again poster in their living room a week later tell them that, yes, it can get _a lot_ worse. Also in their living room are five men neither of them recognize, crowded on Vaughn’s couch and the floor on a Tuesday night. Cas walks into the apartment first, four bags of groceries in hand, and growls low in his throat. He can’t stand unexpected crowds (can barely stand them when they _are_ expected), and he sure as hell can’t stand people who spew vitriol, as these assholes clearly do, if their propaganda is anything to go by. 

And that cutout. He’d like to throat-punch that misogynistic, xenophobic cheese curl. 

Dean bumps into him from behind, his own bags of groceries and his messenger bag swinging into Cas’ legs. 

“What’s this?” Cas asks, tuning out Dean’s grumble of warning behind him. 

“A meeting,” Vaughn answers. He smiles, the first time they’ve ever seen a smile on his face. “We are the ‘Students in Support of Donald Trump.’ We were just discussing new membership. You guys want to join?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Dean pipes up, steering Cas away from the meeting and into the kitchen. “Be _nice_ ,” he whispers urgently. “Come on, let’s just get our food and head to our room, all right? I got a bunch of assignments already.”

Cas gives in to Dean’s request and they make a stir fry. Dean tries to cheer him up, but he smolders, darting his eyes to the loud, raucous conversation every so often. Oh, how he wants to rip these idiots a new one. 

If it weren’t for Dean, he definitely would.

The men are over again on Thursday, and then on Saturday Cas returns from the library and finds a party happening in their apartment. The entire place reeks of alcohol and body odor. He scowls and searches for Dean, who’s not in their room or anywhere else in the apartment. He remembers then that Dean had to work and won’t be home until later. Knowing Dean is safe (and not home to stop him), he seeks out Vaughn, ready to tear into him.

“You didn’t tell us you wanted to have a party tonight,” he growls. 

“S’my place. I don’ hafta tell you shit.”

“We live here, too, and you need to tell us if you want to have a party. That’s courtesy.”

“Fuck me, asshole.”

_Not in a million years._ He’s about to make a scathing retort when he remembers Dean and how nervous he is to rock the boat and lose this place. “We’ll be discussing this,” he sneers, stumbling over people lying on the floor as he makes his way out of his apartment to Jo and Charlie’s. Charlie is, of course, one of Cas’ closest friends, and Jo, her girlfriend, is a cousin of sorts to Dean. The two women started as friends and are now one of the best couples Cas has ever known. He’s happy for them.

He’s even happier, right now, that they live downstairs.

“Uh oh, it’s Smitey McSmiterton,” Jo smirks when Cas knocks and opens the door simultaneously. “Lemme guess.” She points to her ceiling, where the sounds of music and stomping of feet/falling of bodies float into their apartment. 

“I am so fucking pissed,” Cas mutters, flopping down face-first onto the couch.

“Took your chances just walking in, you know. Charlie and I could’ve been gettin’ it on in the living room.”

“Should’ve locked the door, then. Besides, I know you weren’t. Charlie’s on day two of her period, and she hates period sex the first two days because it feels like Godzilla and Kong are fighting for bloody dominance in her uterus.”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“I pay attention when she talks.”

Jo scoffs.

“He’s right,” Cas hears Charlie say. She must’ve been in another room. “Besides, if we were having sex, Cas would’ve just blocked his ears, right?”

“I’d rather listen to people having sex than Vaughn having a fucking party in my goddamn apartment without saying anything like the arrogant asshole he is.”

“Sorry, buddy.” Charlie kisses him on the head. He doesn’t mind when she calls him buddy. “I was just kicking Jo’s ass at this game. You wanna play? I bet Jo will give up her controller to you.”

Despite his bad mood, Cas snorts. “No thanks. I’m already pissed off without getting my ass kicked, too. I’m just going to wallow.” He covers his head with a throw pillow, and his friends leave him be.

A while later, he gets a text from Dean:

_Dean 11:43pm: Where are you?_

_Cas 11:43pm: Downstairs_

A minute later, he hears a quick knock, then the door opening. 

“Heeeey,” Jo says. “Cas is pissed, so don’t go defending the roommate, huh?”

“No worries there,” he mutters. Dean sits next to him and snakes his hand under the pillow to ruffle his hair. “Hey, homie.”

Cas grunts. 

“Don’t be mad at me, please?”

“I’m not.” That wasn’t true until just a few seconds ago—Cas _was_ angry with Dean, a little, for them having to put up with this guy. But he knows that Dean is just as miserable, that it’s not really his fault the guy’s an ass, and that Dean just doesn’t want to go back to the dorms. Plus, he hates hearing the fragile vulnerability in his voice when he thinks someone’s angry with him. It breaks Cas’ heart every time, and it’s usually enough to dissolve his anger. Cas uncovers his head and meets his best friend’s troubled, tired eyes. “I’m just getting fed up with his shit. Don’t know how I’m going to survive a year with him.”

“I promise, we’ll work this out somehow,” Dean assures him. “We’ll talk to him.” 

So they do, the next night.

“I live here, I pay rent, I’ll do what I want,” Vaughn insists, arms crossed. “This is _my_ senior year.”

“We _also_ live here, we _also_ pay rent like you do, and we have the right to insist on advance notice and limits. If the police are called because of noise, that’s a consequence for all of us, not to mention that we are _all_ seniors and need time and space and _quiet_ to work.” Cas crosses his arms, mirroring their roommate. “I will not be thrown out of this apartment for _your_ actions.”

Vaughn, utter asshole that he is, laughs right in his face. Cas has half a mind to pull his tongue out through his penis. “I’m not getting thrown out. My aunt is the landlady. I got her wrapped right here”—he holds up his pinky—“and my uncle won’t do shit.”

Cas’ jaw twitches. Fortunately for their roommate, Dean intervenes before Cas can tell him about option L or kill him with his bare hands. 

“Look, I know you didn’t choose us, and we didn’t choose you. But we’re all here, and none of us are opting out unless it’s of our own accord. All we’re asking is for you to afford us the same courtesy that you’d want. That’s all. Okay?”

There’s a pause as Vaughn considers Dean’s words, Then, for the first time, Vaughn seems cooperative. “Of course. No one should live in an intolerable situation.”

“Great. That’s all we ask.” Dean offers his hand, and Vaughn shakes it. 

Cas makes no such gesture. Vaughn’s cooperation was too easy. He studies him. 

Dean turns to Cas, squinting. “All this okay with you?”

“Of course,” he answers, his gaze not shifting from Vaughn’s face. 

“Uh, well. Good. Okay. Night, then.” Dean starts out of the living room, but Cas doesn’t follow. “Cas? You comin’?”

“No, Dean, you go ahead. I’m going to stay in the living room and catch up on some TV shows on my laptop.”

“Oooookay.” 

Cas isn’t even into TV. He wasn’t allowed to watch it when he was growing up. The joke between them is that, with Cas’ knowledge of books and music and Dean’s knowledge of movies and TV shows, they’re an unstoppable pop trivia force. Dean knows that, which is undoubtedly why he’s confused, but Cas doesn’t want to take the time to explain right now. 

“Um, good night, then,” Dean adds, uncertainty in his voice. 

“Good night.” Cas turns and smiles genuinely at him. He doesn’t want Dean to think he’s angry with him, because that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Dean’s gaze falls to the floor, his baffled frown turning to a shy smile that’s both thrilling and confusing. He watches him walk away, grabbing a bag of chips before sequestering himself in their room.

Cas sits on the floor and turns on his computer. He flips through the selections on his Prime account until he finds a cooking show that he can zone out to. He doesn’t really care to watch TV, anyway. He just wants to get under Vaughn’s skin and, maybe, figure out his angle.

And after a week of that, not only does he know Vaughn’s angle, he knows what they’re going to do about it. It could get difficult—very difficult—but he’ll do what he has to do, for both him and Dean. _I got your number, buddy,_ he thinks as he watches Vaughn cover their living room with more posters of his presidential wet dream. _And by the time we’re done, you’re going be the one to opt out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the living together is going... not so well. 😂
> 
> Wanna try some of those recipes that Cas and Dean made in their dorm days? [Cas and Dean’s Dorm Recipes](https://www.brit.co/dorm-room-recipes/)
> 
> I guess we’re going to see how that “plotting” tag applies... 😂 What do you think Cas will propose?


	3. A Taste of His Own Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s see what Cas has up his sleeve.

“We’re gonna annoy the hell out of him until he moves out.”

“Yes.”

Dean leans on his hands, arching his back in a stretch before settling on the ground again. He looks up at Cas, who’s pacing the grassy quad. His hair is being tossed by the breeze, his eyes are fiery with enthusiasm and conviction, and his whole body is radiating Big Dick Energy. _Goddamnit, he needs to stop being so hot_. He takes a breath to collect himself. _Focus._ “Okay. So what makes you think this is going to work?”

“I don’t know if this is going to work. Yet.” He points his index finger toward Dean. “But, I know people just like him. My brother, for one. Luc, for two. Your father, I suspect, for three. And my father, what little I know of him, was like that, too. And what do they all have in common?” 

Cas kneels on one knee before him and leans in to make his point. He’s missing his calling, pursuing a history degree instead of a law degree, because if he was a juror, Cas would definitely be winning him over. “They’re all self-absorbed, narcissistic bullies who think the world should bend down and kiss their asses. Well, guess what? I lived with that. So did you. And we know what works, Dean.” He drops his other knee, his body now hovering over Dean’s outstretched legs, hands on either side of Dean’s hips. “Standing up. Not pandering to their whims. Beating them at their own game.”

Dean wills himself to _keep your eyes on his face and not on how close his dick is to yours, for God’s sake_. He nods.

“Here’s the thing,” Cas says, jumping up and pacing away as if he hadn’t stolen Dean’s breath. “These guys are good. They read people well, and they pick out weaknesses. He knew within a day that taking care of people is a thing for you. He probably noticed it when you were trying to calm me down the day we were all talking to the landlords. When he rejected your food and called it shitty that next night, it was a test. You flinched, and he wrote it down in his tiny little cockroach brain, and I guarantee he hasn’t forgotten it. With me, it was his political shit. Every night I’ve stayed in the living room, he’s made sure to work on posters, or talk to his little cronies, or flip his TV to those conservative loudmouths ‘just to see what was on’. And he wears his ridiculous MAGA hat and tries to get all of my opinions on the hot-button topics. He knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.” Cas sits next to Dean, finally taking his sandwich in hand. “Well, unfortunately for him, we’re going to outsmart him. And he won’t be the wiser.” He takes a too-large bite, and damn it, even with his mouth stuffed full, he’s hotter than hell. 

Dean agrees, in principle, with Cas’ idea, but he’s stuck on one part. “How’s that? How will he not know?”

Cas holds up a finger, finishes chewing, and swallows. “One, because we’re going to be very subtle. And two, because he thinks we’re dumb.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because every idiot like him thinks they’re smarter than everyone else. And that, my friend, is where we beat him.”

Nodding, Dean says, “Because we’re going to show him we’re not dumb.”

“No. Because we’re going to show him we _are_ . We’re going to pretend to be completely oblivious to his game and play into his ego. In the meantime, we’re going to be playing the same game, matching him pound for pound. He wants to have people over without telling us? We will, too. He wants to hog all of his furniture for his exclusive use? Fine, no problem. We’ll buy our own and put it right next to his. He wants to make political statements? Oh, baby, do we have a built-in political statement.” Cas digs a brochure out of his “sack of toys,” as Dean calls it—the bag of paraphernalia he uses for his peer education programs. _LGBTQ—What does it mean for you?_ is emblazoned on the top. “I get the feeling he’d have a tough time if he knew he was living with two bisexual men, don’t you?”

Dean smirks at Cas’ devilish smile. “You really think we can pull this off?”

“Oh yes, I certainly do. I used to do this with Michael all the time, and once he figured out I was on to him, he cut the shit. But, like I said, we’re going to have to be subtle. Play dumb, as it were. Now, I get his game, but I don’t know how committed he is to it or how far we’ll have to push. So, we’re going to need a series of trials.”

“Trials? I’m not following.”

“Set something up, run it, see how it goes.” He takes another bite of his sandwich and speaks with his mouth full. “We’ll see what works and what doesn’t. We might have to try a few things for a while. I don’t know what his tolerance is like.”

“Right.” Dean pinches the top of his nose. This is not what he wanted his senior year to be. He already has so many classes and labs as a biology major, and he’s working besides. And he fucking _hates_ conflict. He went to college to get _away_ from conflict—particularly his stupid, shitty father, who always thought he was right (still does) and loved to stir it up with Sam and his mother and even Dean, when he bothered. Why can’t everyone just get along? “You really think we need to do all this?”

Cas’s eyes soften, and he places a hand on his shoulder. Cas knows that he hates this shit, but Cas also knows that sometimes he isn’t willing to push for what’s good for him. Push for the good of others, sure, but for himself...not so much. Cas provides that counterbalance, that shove he needs sometimes. His best friend takes a breath and leans in confidentially. “We have three options,” he says with a wink. Dean smiles, knowing Cas is reading him as expertly as those damn history tomes of his. “Option A, we move. Option B, we let him rule the roost all fucking year. Option C, we revolt against the cruel dictator—emphasis on _dick_ —and get our apartment back.” Cas pauses; Dean focuses on him, wide-eyed. He continues softly, “I’ll do A or C, but I don’t think I’ll be able to manage B.” 

Dean knows—he _knows_ —how hard this is for Cas. He grew up with a guy just like Vaughn, and he always vowed he’d never live with another Michael. Truth be told, Dean doesn’t want to live with another guy just like his father, either. 

That doesn’t mean the decision is easy. Dean bites his lip, still nervous, still uncertain. He had to run to college just to feel like he could breathe, and he hasn’t gotten much better at standing up to his father, even with distance and his parents’ divorce (Dean wishes his mother hadn’t waited until he went to college to do that; ten years and two affairs earlier would’ve been much better). He’s not sure he can do option C. He’s always opted for peace and acquiescence. But they can’t do option A, not without possibly being split up. And if Cas can’t do option B, what choice do they have? 

He looks at Cas, who’s watching him. Cas raises his hand, and for a moment Dean swears he’s going to cup his face, thumb his lip away from his teeth, hold his mouth open as he leans in... _no. But yes, please, yes._

Cas’ hand stops, mid-air, then drops to his arm. Dean would be disappointed, but Cas’ touch and voice are both unbearably soft when he says, “I wouldn’t suggest all this if I didn’t think we needed to do it. I’ll be with you the whole way.”

With a heavy exhale, Dean reins in his feelings and puts on his big boy pants. He holds up his fist for Cas to bump with his own. “Option C it is. Let’s get this motherfucker.”

They label the next week-and-a-half “Pre-Trial,” in which they determine what will get to their roommate the most. The things that seem to get under his skin are invasions of “his” space, being friendly to his friends, sexuality, in general, and sexuality, in terms of orientation. Cas and Dean take careful notes, and Dean starts thinking of it less as a chore and more as empowerment and starts to have fun with it. 

On a Friday afternoon, they declare themselves ready for Trial 1: Give Vaughn a taste of his own medicine. They drag Jo and Charlie to Target, once again.

“You guys are nuts,” Jo declares as she eyes a set of end tables on sale for $30.59. “Do you really think this is going to work?”

“If it doesn’t, we’re moving in with you,” Dean tells her. She makes a face.

“Dude, we only have a one bedroom. No way you guys would fit.”

“We’d find a way.”

“No.”

“Some friend you are.” His eyes move to the entertainment centers. “Shit, this stuff’s expensive.”

“Well, yeah. What were you guys gonna do before?”

Dean shrugs and says offhandedly, “I dunno. Milk crates and plyboard?”

Cas, his hands on an $80 coffee table that looks like a bitch to put together, turns suddenly and points at Dean. “Yes, _that’s_ what we need to do!”

His outburst surprises all of them. He looks at them expectantly, waiting for them to get what he’s saying, apparently. Dean finally manages, “What? I was joking, Cas.”

“But you’re right on. We don’t want to get nice stuff. We want to get cheap, ugly crap, because one, Mr. I-Wear-Ralph-Lauren will hate it, and two, I don’t want him or his idiot friends ruining our stuff. Not to mention we’ll probably want to burn it all in effigy once we manage to push him out the door.”

 _Damn._ He’s always so impressed with his friend. Dean bursts into slow applause that increases in speed and enthusiasm. “That is fucking _brilliant_ ,” he praises. He smiles at Cas’ little bow, then frowns. “Wait, that won’t bug you, though? Not having nice things? I mean, you grew up with...you know.” He thinks about the designer furniture Cas’ mom and stepdad insisted on replacing the standard dorm furniture with and the offer to buy them a “cheap” $1400 sofa and $1800 dining room set that Cas said they’d “let them know” about once they moved in. He thinks, too, about Vaughn’s furniture—not as nice as Cas’ folks would’ve provided, but way nicer than what Dean could’ve done and nicer than this Target shit, too.

“Dean, honest to God, I don’t give a rat’s ass what our furniture looks like, as long as it’s you and me in the end. Let’s get out of here and go hit some thrift stores, okay?” 

Dean feels like he usually does when Cas says things like that—like he’s on the Tilt-a-Whirl, exhilarated and dizzy and slightly nauseous. Cas holds his hand out, palm flat, and Dean grabs it and gives it a squeeze without thinking. At Cas’ startled face, he realizes that maybe Cas just wanted to slap hands or something. _Oh God._ Yet before he can withdraw his hand and cover up his mistake with a joke, Cas smiles and squeezes back. He gives it a quick tug, then drops it to wave him forward toward the exit. Dean is sweaty and embarrassed and elated.

At one thrift store, they score a _very_ distressed coffee table, a loveseat with a large floral pattern, and a braided rug in rainbow colors. At another, they find a small breakfast table with a green tiled top and two stools. At a third, they buy a pastel pink end table that was once in a child’s room, if the My Little Pony stickers are any indication, and a lamp with a large, golden eagle as its base. After that, they hit up their local Home Depot and pick up a couple of pieces of plyboard and a couple of sawhorses to make a stand for Dean’s TV and video game console. Shopped out and having the rest of what they need at the apartment, they bring all of their treasures home in Cas’ pickup, draping a tarp over everything until they can unpack it in the morning. They share pizza at Jo and Charlie’s, then depart with one final decoration from Charlie to make their apartment complete. Dean hides it from Vaughn’s view when they walk through the door. 

He hopes to hell this works. 

* * *

On Saturday morning, as soon as Vaughn leaves for his “education mission” (also known as harassing people just going about their lives), Cas and Dean take action. They move all of Vaughn’s things—including all of his furniture and posters—in the living room to one side, then slide their loveseat, tables, lamp, and rudimentary TV stand in place. Dean wires his TV and gaming system while Cas brings in the breakfast table and the braided rug and positions them in place. Lastly, they hang their gift from Charlie on the wall: a pride flag. Cas also hangs a few posters from his peer education work, including anatomical drawings, and Dean hangs his poster of Harrison Ford from his _Star Wars_ days. The final piece is the latex penis model that Cas places on the coffee table. After that, they shift a few things around in the kitchen and bathroom, then wait.

As predicted, when Vaughn arrives home, he loses his mind.

“What the hell is this shit?” he screams. 

“What?” Cas asks, acting the picture of innocence. 

“You touched my shit!”

“We just made room for our things, that’s all.”

“They’re crowding the living room!”

Cas shrugs, giving Vaughn a puzzled head tilt. “Well, you said we couldn’t use your furniture, and we needed someplace to sit when we use the living room and kitchen, so...we bought some.”

“You... _bought this_?” His eyes bounce wildly around the room, glancing off each hideous object. “You paid _actual money_ for this?”

“Yes, we did. We got great deals. A couple of things are even from the thrift store that supports intellectually diverse individuals.”

Cas imagines steam blowing the top off of Vaughn’s head. It’s glorious. 

“This isn’t going to work,” Vaughn huffs.

“Of course it will. Like you said, no one should have to live in an intolerable situation. I admit I was angry the last time we talked. Dean convinced me I was too harsh in our last conversation, though, and he was right, so I wanted to offer an olive branch with this compromise. We’re roommates. We all live here and should be able to do as we please, and we’ll make our living arrangement work, with mutual courtesy and following the same set of rules, as it were. We all have our space now. We think it’ll work out perfectly, don’t we, Dean?”

“Sure do.”

Vaughn storms to his room. Cas and Dean share a silent laugh until he comes stomping back, a measuring tape in hand. He carefully maps out the space and, finding the sides of the living room are equal, grunts. He stands, about to say something else, when his eyes dart and lock onto the flag. “What is that shit?” 

Next to him, Dean becomes distressed. Most people probably wouldn’t notice—his expression hasn’t changed, his confident smile still on his face—but Cas knows the turmoil underneath. He sees it in the dimming of his eyes. As much as Dean is proud of who he is, Cas suspects the nagging voice of his father still rings in his ears. Cas slides next to him, slinging an arm over his shoulders and smiling casually. “It’s a pride flag.” 

“Why is it _here_?”

“For...pride? Dean and I are bisexual. Did you not know that? Is that a problem?”

Vaughn’s reddened face blanches. _Bingo_. 

“It’s friggin’—what the hell is _that_?” His eyes widen and his jaw drops.

Cas follows his eyes and fights hard to keep from smiling. “A model of an erect penis. For my peer education work.”

“That’s disgusting!”

“No, it’s very clean. I sanitize it after every program.”

Vaughn spins and storms from the room, once again, punctuating his departure with a slam of his bedroom door. The friends flick their eyes toward each other, covering their mouths to stifle their laughter.

Vaughn doesn’t come out of his room all afternoon, and it’s fantastic. They play music quietly as they make burritos for lunch, the two of them working as one. Dean seems lighter, happier as they sit and share their first meal in their apartment at an actual table. _Their_ table. Cas feels lighter and happier too. This is how it was supposed to be all along—the two of them. They don’t say much, but the small smiles they send each other are enough to say it all. 

Around six, there’s a knock on their door. They glance at each other and shrug. “I’ll get it,” Dean says, dropping the bag he was about to open. Cas nods and stays in the kitchen to finish preparing snacks for their first night in their new living room. Dean wanted a movie night, because Cas is still “catching up” on his movie knowledge, per Dean (Cas is fairly confident he’ll never catch up). He’s topping the dip with bacon and green onions when Dean calls, “Uh, Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“Harry and Jilly are here.”

“Oh?” He strides into the living room, where he sees their landlords standing in the doorway. Poor Dean looks sick. Cas presses his hand on Dean’s back in gentle comfort. “Hello. Is everything okay?”

Jilly starts, “We got a call from—”

Before she can finish, her nephew bursts into the living room. “No, everything is _not_ okay. Look what they’ve done!” 

_Of course he called them._ Cas buries his proud smirk behind a blank face.

Harry and Jilly peer around Dean and Cas. “Two of everything?” Jilly asks.

“Oh, we just wanted someplace to sit, to have meals at, that sort of thing,” Cas explains with the same innocent demeanor he used with Vaughn. 

Her face screws up in confusion. “Why couldn’t you boys just use one set of furniture? Didn’t Vaughn bring everything y’all needed?”

Cas pretends to give Dean, then Vaughn, a significant look, one full of “regret” and “reluctance.” He ruffles his hair and doesn’t see (completely ignores) the warning in Vaughn’s eyes. “Well, Vaughn told us we couldn’t use his things—the couch, the kitchen table, and so on.” He shrugs, small and meek. 

Harry glares at his nephew. “Vaughn Marshall Reynolds—” 

“That’s—that’s not what I meant—”

“Ah, only children, amiright?” Dean interjects with a charming, toothy smile. “I mean, it’s hard to share when you’re used to havin’ your stuff for your own use only. We don’t mind. I mean, yeah, it makes things tight, but Cas ‘n’ I are agreeable and just want to share the space equally.” Cas nearly breaks when Dean adds with an _oh shucks_ grin, “Well, not equally, ‘cause that would mean we’d each get a third of the space and he has a half, but math has never been my strong suit.” 

Dean chuckles at his own statement as he nudges Jilly, who smiles uncertainly. Cas chuckles, too, knowing the statement is far from the truth. Dean is one of the brightest people he’s ever met. Usually, he’d call Dean on that sort of statement, but he’s fairly certain he’s only saying it to keep Jilly on their side, and he moves on too quickly, anyway.

“Hey, since you’re here, you guys wanna come in and try this dip Cas made for our movie night? It’s called Crack Dip—not the drug, we’d never do that—but it _is_ addictive. Bacon, cheese, more cheese, sour cream—ugh, you’ll love it, I swear. Now this is _not_ low-fat, but if you’re having fun while eating it then the calories don’t count. That’s what my mom says.”

Jilly laughs and Harry looks like he’s damn near salivating. As Dean invites them into the apartment while he fetches the snacks, Cas marvels, once again, at his friend’s talent for putting people at ease. It’s a talent he wishes he had, but he’s content to bask in the residual light of Dean’s glory. He watches Dean fondly (and avoids Vaughn’s gaze) until he sees Dean trying to balance too much in his hands and goes to rescue him.

Their eyes meet, just for a moment. His eyes are always so green, but today, right now, they seem decidedly so. Maybe it’s the light, or maybe it’s the way Dean is watching him, an entire story playing behind his eyes that Cas can’t read. He licks his lips and smiles. “Need some help?”

“Uh, yeah, could use some. Take the drinks?”

“Sure.”

Dean flashes him a quick, grateful smile before brushing by him to usher their landlords into their part of the living room, inviting them to sit on the loveseat as he sets the dip and buttery crackers on the coffee table before he sits on the floor. Cas joins them, drinks in hand, dismissing the fluttering in his belly as nervousness about their landlords’ approval. 

Jilly and Harry are quite fascinating. They traveled widely before settling in the area and buying apartments. Jilly is amused by the sawhorse-and-plywood TV stand, and they share a number of stories about their early marriage and how poor they were. “It didn’t matter to us, honestly,” she says, glancing at Harry affectionately. “We just wanted to be together.”

Cas rubs his hands together between his knees. He avoids looking at Dean. 

The landlords take their leave after an hour or so. On the way out, Jilly points at the wall. “That’s one of them flags...uh, GT...no, BLT...no, that’s not it, it’s a long thing...”

“LGBTQIA+,” Cas says helpfully.

“Yes, that’s it. They keep addin’ letters; I can’t keep up. Are you gay?”

“Jilly,” Harry mutters.

Cas shakes his head at Harry dismissively. It’s a risk to tell them, not knowing their views, but it’s too late now, especially since their nephew already knows. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. We wouldn’t have this around if we weren’t willing to talk about it. We’re both bisexual. I’m also a sexuality peer educator, thus my materials you might’ve seen.”

“Hard for me not to notice a penis lyin’ around the living room,” she observes.

Cas leans toward her, their shoulders bumping. “Me too, Jilly,” he tells her with an air of confidentiality. 

Jilly snorts and sends the four of them into a laughing fit. 

“Kids these days,” Harry quips, shaking his head with a residual grin. “All right, well then, we’d best be goin’. Vaughn, that all you wanted was to tell us about the furniture?”

Vaughn’s response is a grumble.

“Well, you boys have fun,” Jilly says, the two of them waving goodbye as they head out.

“We will,” Dean says. He shoots a wink at Cas. 

Cas side-eyes him, the corners of his mouth curling up. This might be more fun than he thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a sexuality peer educator in college, and I had a roommate who had a very squeamish boyfriend when it came to mature discussions of sexuality. I didn’t care for him or his Neanderthal way of seeing things, so one day I left my erect penis model out on the coffee table in the living room. Freaked him right out. 😂
> 
> Wanna try the Crack Dip this weekend? [Crack Dip](https://showmetheyummy.com/crack-dip-recipe/)
> 
> So, what do you think of Cas’ plan so far? Will it be enough? If not, what else can they do?


	4. Bring on the Gays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important chapter note: if you’ve never seen the word coxswain before, it’s pronounced KOK-sən. You’ll need that info. 😘😂
> 
> Also, there is more photo art from the lovely Angel! I just had to put it in this chapter, for reasons.

A week after they redecorate the apartment, the friends decide it’s time for Trial 2, because even though the shared spaces and sexually evocative materials annoy the hell out of Vaughn, they aren’t making as big an impact as Cas and Dean would like. So, on a Tuesday night in the middle of October, they have a few friends over, right at the time when Vaughn’s MAGA friends are around. Their goal is to expose their homophobic roommate to all the gay he can stand—until, hopefully, he can’t stand it and leaves.

“Come on in,” Cas says to their group of specially curated friends: the most outwardly “out” friends he and Dean have. There’s Charlie, of course, though because she’s a woman Cas thinks she probably won’t have the same impact (he was concerned about Vaughn fetishizing her, in fact, but Charlie insisted on being included). There’s also Felix, an art major who has lots of piercings, green hair, and a keen mind; Calvin, a political science major who dresses much like Vaughn but is infinitely nicer; Balthazar, an English major who’s been everywhere and with just about everyone and has no qualms about it; and Reagan, an outgoing theater major with a slight build and husky-dog eyes. 

Their mission was succinctly put by Charlie in a group chat: _gay it up._

And they do.

“So I said to him, “Hey, if you’re gonna ride me, I expect a little waxing and buffing first, know what I mean?” 

“Dudes, I was banging this football player in the locker room the other night, when all of a sudden the guy’s teammate walked in. I was like, ‘shit,’ but then he sat there and watched us, like, what?”

“Speaking of teams, I’m gonna join crew. I’m gonna be the coxswain, ’cause all I do with my cock is sin.”

“I think I converted one. He was all, ‘I don’t do guys,’ but he didn’t seem to have a problem doing me.”

“If I don’t get Gaga tickets, I really might die.”

“I’m trying out for _A Chorus Line_. I think I have the legs for it, don’t you?”

“This guy was super uncomfortable with the penis model we had out, so I asked him about his ‘latent homosexual desires’ and he ran.”

“Did you hear about the local anti-gay activist who was caught with his pants down—literally—with some twink? Confession: I was the twink.”

“Mmm, now I want Twinkies.”

“I want Five Guys.”

“Ooh, I love their fries!”

“I wasn’t talking about the burger place.”

The group laughs uproariously at their exaggerations and outright lies. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas watches Vaughn and his cronies, who look...uncomfortable, to say the least. But the cronies also look curious...and hungry, too; most of them are eyeballing their snacks on the coffee table. Vaughn doesn’t cook, while he and Dean both do. Cas makes a mental note of it.

On Thursday, they repeat their actions, with even more tempting treats. They even offer the opposing side some of their snacks, but a reproachful stare from Vaughn keeps anyone from taking them up on it.

On Saturday, catching wind that Vaughn planned to have a party at the apartment (the third or fourth now since school began, and all without asking first), Cas and Dean decide to throw an impromptu party of their own. They’re hopeful that not only will this stop the parties, but also that it will be the final straw for their roommate. 

Dean gets called into work, though, so Cas has to manage it on his own. He’s never liked huge parties, but they were a necessary evil when he was drinking and hooking up more. Now, though, he really can’t stand them—all the drinking that people his age seem obliged to do, all the noise that people make, all the... _people_. Ugh. He’s not impressed that he has to do this without Dean.

He _is_ impressed when all of their friends show up in sequins and glitter.

“Cassie!” Bal shouts, arriving with Reagan, Felix, and Calvin, and a few more people besides. Charlie and Jo are already at the apartment, cooking and giving everything just the right amount of pizzazz. “I have the lasso!”

“I hope it’s not full of weird stains,” Cas snarks, loud enough for Vaughn and his buddies to hear. 

“They’re perfectly normal stains for the activities the lasso was used for.”

“Carry on, then.”

Balthazar catches the wide-eyed look on some of the faces in the other half of the living room and winks at them.

Throughout the evening, more and more friends (and friends of friends) arrive. It gets very tight in the living room with everyone staying on their sides, not crossing the tape line. Bal, Charlie, Reagan, and a woman named Iris keep things lively on Cas’ side, and there isn’t a moment when someone isn’t laughing. Everyone is well-fed, loose, and joking around. Once in a while, Cas peeks at Vaughn’s side, and he has to say, some of them look bored and jealous. People are drinking, sure, but they don’t seem to be enjoying themselves or each other. 

“Fun’s over here!” Reagan calls to the other side, apparently sensing the same vibe Cas is. “If you play nice and you’re not afraid to have a gay day, you can come on over our way!”

“Come to the Dark Side. We have chicken wings,” Felix adds.

Several people—all women except for one—come to their side and are welcomed warmly. More defectors follow (men following the women, Cas notices—letting their dicks lead, obviously), until it’s only Vaughn and a few stalwarts who stay firmly on his side. Everyone seems to get along, even with their differences. It’s nice, even though he’s starting to feel a bit overwhelmed—and horny, frankly, given the suggestive antics of some of his friends. He hasn’t gotten any in a long time now. It’s his own choice, and he made it for...reasons. Still, he can’t help his damn hormones. He sighs and lets Charlie and Jo make him the salami in their dance sandwich. Felix and Bal join in, then take over, Bal muttering something to Cas about Vaughn looking absolutely disgusted. It makes Cas smile, and he leans into his friends a little more and plays it up, pushing aside his people exhaustion for the sake of making his roommate question his current living situation.

* * *

Both parties are still in full swing when Dean arrives (though he’s proud to say theirs looks _much_ better). He makes his way around, greeting people he hasn’t seen in a long time. It’s good to see some of the old crowd again, even if he’s glad, looking at them, that he and Cas dropped all the partying they were doing. And speaking of...“Where’s Cas?” he asks when he gets to Calvin, not having seen him in his rounds. Calvin shakes his head.

“Think he’s bangin’ that green-haired guy,” a woman nearby answers as she points toward their room. Dean’s gaze follows her finger. Their bedroom door is closed. His gut twists. He didn’t know Cas had a thing for Felix. Not that having a “thing” for someone was ever a prerequisite for either of them, though he thought both of them had changed their casual ways, or at least tempered them. Not to mention he didn’t think Cas would hook up with a friend. He knows he won’t date them. Maybe he’s less fussy about banging them. But he really thought that Cas hadn’t been hooking up very often these days, if at all, and to know he has been...well, he isn’t sure how he feels about that, but it sure as hell isn’t good.

“His skanky friend better not be staying the night,” Vaughn shouts over the music from his side of the room. How he even heard their conversation, Dean has no idea, though he is pretty close to the tape line separating the spaces. 

“Don’t worry, Cas usually kicks them out before the tissues hit the can!” Reagan pipes up as he passes by, wearing a feather boa and leading a line of people toward a bare-chested Bal, who’s chanting something about riding rainbows. Despite his discomfort, Dean snorts at the repulsed face Vaughn makes.

The “skanky friend” comes out of their room a couple of minutes later, looking more put-together than Dean expects. He likes Felix, and Cas can fuck whoever he wants, but his heart’s feelings about the whole thing must be evident on his face because Felix slows his steps and stares at him. Dean stares right back.

“What?” Felix asks, throwing out his hands. 

“What?”

“I dunno, you’re the one staring at me like you wanna kill me, Jesus.”

Rubbing the haze of jealousy from his eyes, Dean mutters, “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean it.”

“Okay, whatever, man. Go see Cas. He told me to get you if you were around.”

Dean pauses to process that. “He did?”

“Yeah. He’s—”

Dean doesn’t spare Felix a second glance as he strides toward the bedroom, leaving everyone behind. If Felix hurt him in any way, there’s gonna be hell to pay.

He swings the door open and sees Cas lying on the bed in the dark. He rushes to him, knees skidding painfully on the worn wood floor and skimpy area rug. “Cas, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you? You came in here like the place was on fire.”

There’s worry in his voice. Dean looks him over—he’s fully dressed, and the room doesn’t smell like sex. Maybe he (and that chick) jumped to conclusions. “Yeah, fine. Felix told me you wanted me.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, a tiny, breathy thing that Dean wishes was a different sort of response to Dean’s statement.

“What’s up?”

“Just tired. Wanted to see if you were home yet and could take over party duties. It was fun, but I can’t people any more.”

Dean chuckles and musses his hair. “I think Bal and Reagan have things under control. Sort of. When I saw them they were having a ‘ride the rainbow’ event. I didn’t ask questions.”

“That’s probably wise.” Cas groans as he rubs his face against the pillow. “I can’t do these kind of parties anymore, Dean.”

“You’re not drunk, that’s why.”

“Probably. How do we get everyone to leave?”

“Uh, ask nicely?”

“That would probably work for our friends, but I’m not sure about Vaughn’s.”

“True. Um, call the police for a noise complaint? Course, that would probably mean none of us could have this kind of party again.”

Lifting his head from his pillow for the first time, Cas replies, “I’m okay with that.”

“Leave it up to me,” Dean smiles.

A few well-timed text messages to their friends and an anonymous noise complaint to the police ensure that the party ends without most of their friends being there for the officers’ visit. Bal and Reagan stick around, just for appearances’ sake, then crash in Dean and Cas’ room, Reagan shimmying his way next to Dean and Bal sliding into Cas’ bed without hesitation. 

In the morning, Dean’s eyes blink open and see Bal curled into Cas’ side. His stomach sours. He wishes he’d made Reagan and Bal sleep in his bed and he’d slept with Cas. Seeing Cas with someone _hurts_ , much more than he ever thought it would. He reminds himself that Cas can fuck who he wants, and that he didn’t even fuck Bal, but it doesn’t help. What does help is Cas waking up in the middle of Dean’s freakout and meeting his eyes, giving him a warm smile and completely ignoring his bedmate. Dean returns it, feeling soothed just by that acknowledgement. “Mornin’, Cas.”

“Yes, it is,” Cas replies. He carefully shifts off the bed, being considerate of Bal, and moves to the floor, patting the space beside him. 

Dean drops to the floor next to him, and they lie on the carpet side by side, close enough to hear each other as they speak in hushed tones.

“Won’t Baron von Douchenozzle love the fact that Bal and Reagan stayed over? Bet he’ll think we had some sort of orgy,” Dean snarks. 

“Of course he will, because anyone who’s attracted to the same gender can’t possibly keep their hands to themselves.”

“Of course not. Put us in proximity and boom! We’re fucking. It’s nature. I don’t make the rules.”

Cas snickers. “He was so uncomfortable last night. Any time any of the guys kissed each other or danced together, I thought he was gonna explode. Of course, the girls doing it was fine—I caught him watching a couple of times—but God forbid guys even got close to each other. At one point I was dancing with Felix and Bal and I swear he was looking at the sky like he could make fire and brimstone rain down. So of course I played it up.”

“Jeez.”

“I had to, Dean. It’s nature. I don’t make the rules.” 

Dean and Cas lose themselves in giggles for a while. 

“Vaughn actually called Felix a skank last night.”

“What? Why?”

“Thought you guys were fucking in here, said that our ‘skanky friend’ better not be staying the night.”

“What an ass. As if I was fucking Felix.” Cas closes his eyes and shakes his head.

Dean breathes a quiet sigh of relief. “Right? I mean, good guy and all, but like we said, we don’t fuck everyone we see.”

“You know, though,” Cas says thoughtfully, “we could.”

The words trigger fear and jealousy in Dean’s heart. He tenses. “Wh-what do you mean?”

Cas opens his eyes and turns to face Dean. “We could play his bias to our advantage. Bring different guys here every night and have sex. It would drive him nuts. I mean, we’d just be pretending, we wouldn’t really have sex with them, obviously”—Cas averts his eyes—“unless you want to, of course—”

Dean’s sudden, emphatic “No!” surprises them both. They stare at each other for a moment, until Cas licks his lips and smiles.

“Okay. So, we parade these guys in and drive him crazy. Trial 3. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

For the next couple of weeks, Dean and Cas take turns bringing male friends in their room, a sock on the door telling everyone that they’re “busy.” They make up lewd stories to make Vaughn see red while they assure each other privately that nothing happens on the other side of the door (under the guise of “Him? No thanks” and “I wouldn’t stink up our room, man”).

But Vaughn is the one who causes a stink. 

* * *

“Now, we know that it’s hard to live together, especially when you didn’t plan to,” Jilly McIntyre says sympathetically when all of them are sitting at Vaughn’s kitchen table (to much grumbling on his part) at a meeting called by the landlords after Vaughn bitched.

“And we know young people have to sow their oats,” Harry adds. He munches on soft pumpkin chocolate chip cookies that Dean made, a way to keep the couple firmly on their side. 

“But it would be lovely if you all found a way to get along,” Jilly continues. “I will say we don’t allow any unauthorized overnight guests…”

Cas frowns. He’s not sure whether they can dictate that, legally. He reminds himself to check on that.

“...so we can’t allow any of you to have anyone stay here without permission from us. And certainly, it seems that Vaughn is uncomfortable with the numerous strangers parading in and out…”

“But we’re not saying you can’t have anyone over, let’s be clear,” Harry rushes to say.

“Of course not. You’re welcome to have friends. No more parties without our permission, though. And it seems like it would be best at this time to limit the number of strangers in your home.”

Vaughn pipes in with, “So, in other words, keep all your skanks out of my apartment.”

Cas is fit to burst. How dare this asshole? Dean is trembling minutely next to him, and it just pisses him off even more. “Is this because our guests have been men?” he asks, playing innocent even though he wants to smite his roommate on the spot. “Is our bisexuality a problem?”

Vaughn says nothing, but Harry and Jilly look horrified. “No, certainly not! We don’t carry that sort of bias in our family,” Jilly assures them. Cas wonders if she really knows her nephew at all. “In fact—”

“Aunt Jill,” Vaughn interrupts her brusquely, “just get to the point.”

Harry raises a brow at his nephew, but Jilly waves her hand and continues, “Yes, yes. So, it’s really having so many people in and out that’s a problem, isn’t that right, Vaughn?”

Though it seems to pain him, Vaughn says, “Right.”

The whole interaction strikes Cas as odd, and he doesn’t believe him for a moment. Then, a brilliant idea comes to his mind. 

“Okay, then. Though our guests never stayed overnight, I think Dean and I can agree not to create an intolerable situation by bringing strangers around. I assume the rule applies to all of us, Jilly?”

“Oh, of course. We don’t want any of you to be uncomfortable, and I’m sure it would make you all just as uncomfortable if Vaughn was bringing all sorts of strangers home.”

Cas nods. Dean nods. Vaughn huffs, then nods.

“Well, we’re all agreed, then!” Harry says, sounding very relieved as he stands up.

“Yup, all agreed,” Dean says with a happy smile, though Cas can tell he’s anything but. He’s worried, Cas is certain of it. 

He hopes he can put his fears to rest with his plan.

“The way I see it,” Cas says later, when they’re alone in their room, “we have three options: A, one of us starts having a fake relationship with someone he already knows, someone who’s already in the friend group. Bal, maybe, or Felix, or Calvin. B, we dose his wretched cologne with poison that gets absorbed into the skin and is untraceable.” 

“I like B,” Dean offers with a laugh. 

Cas smiles. “Me too. But as much as I like prison porn, I don’t think the real thing would be nearly as good.”

Dean covers his eyes and cackles. “Jesus, Cas.” 

Cas’ own cackling subsides after a moment. His smile becomes softer, almost shy. “Um, and then there’s option C.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Fiddling with the hem of his shirt, he eventually meets Dean’s eyes and says, “We could get together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooohhh... what do you think Dean’s reaction will be? He was definitely jealous when he thought of Cas with anyone else! But can he handle them being a fake couple? 
> 
> I wanna hang out with their friends, lol! Not at a big party, though. I’m a Cas. I love having people around... as long as they leave by nine. 🤣🤣🤣


	5. An Inside Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you let Dean eat crackers in your bed? Cas would.

“Say what?” Dean asks, _we could get together_ repeating on a loop in his mind.

“He bitched about all the strangers,” Cas says, becoming excited, “and he trapped himself in the process. He couldn’t say he was a homophobic prick, so he had to agree that it was only because they were strangers. Soooo...we use one person, one he already knows. We could pretend to have some sort of relationship or fuck buddy thing with one of the guys, but the true beauty of it being us is that he would have full-time exposure.”

Dean nods. “So, what does that mean? For us?”

“It means we have to fake being attracted to each other.” 

There’s nothing fake about his attraction to Cas, but he’s not saying a word. 

“We have to flirt. And...maybe more. Touching, or something. Is that okay with you?”

“I’ll do anything,” he says. _Anything for you._

Over the next few days, Cas gives him sideways glances and touches him any time Vaughn is around—innocent stuff, a shoulder bump here or a brush to the back there, just enough to plant a question in his mind. He tells him he looks nice in his outfit. He says he’ll wait up for him so they can talk “because I always value our talks, Dean.” Dean relishes all of it. It’s not even that different than how they interact normally, but there’s a heat in his eyes and a gentle hesitance in his touch that makes him both marvel at Cas’ acting skills and long for this to be real.

On a chilly Saturday night, no loud parties to greet him, Dean arrives home from work, exhausted and hungry. Vaughn’s cronies are there, of course, discussing their hopes for the election and making their plans to be at the polls the following Tuesday. Cas is already home, and Dean’s not too tired to appreciate the way Cas’ loose jeans sit low on his hips. He’s been dressing a little more provocatively the last few days, Dean’s noticed (of course he’s noticed, because _fuck_ ). Felix, Reagan, Charlie, Jo, Calvin, and Bal are there, too. Music is playing and their friends are chatting and eating the vast quantities of food that Cas made. Now his mouth is watering for two reasons. 

“Food. Gimme. I’m starving,” Dean bellows, wedging his way between Charlie and Jo on the tiny loveseat to scarf down enough food for three average adults.

“Dude, you’re getting crumbs everywhere,” Jo complains. “How do you manage to attract anyone with your horrible eating habits?”

Cas tsks from his seat on the floor. “Uh, have you looked at him, Jo? I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers.” 

Dean nearly chokes as he turns wide eyes Cas’ way. Their other friends are staring at him, mouths hanging open and eyebrows climbing their foreheads. 

Cas shrugs. “What?”

Taking the phrase literally, Charlie nearly shouts, “Castiel Novak, why would Dean Winchester be eating crackers _in your bed_?” She pins him with a stern stare but purses her lips in amusement, like a mother waiting to hear what pitiful lie her five-year-old comes up with.

Cas shrugs again, all innocence. “Well, he’d have to eat to build his strength back up.”

Incredulous looks and barely-contained smiles are traded as they all try to figure out (Dean most of all) whether Cas is joking. “Are you into him?” Calvin asks.

Once more, Cas shrugs. “I’d like to be.”

The hoots and hollers get the attention of Vaughn and his friends, or maybe their attention was already turned their way. Dean isn’t sure and doesn’t care, because this...is something he didn’t expect. Is he serious? What is…

Cas catches his eye and winks at him. _Oh. Right. Dumbass._ He’s more tired than he thought. Though, to be fair, Cas is ramping it up quite a bit.

“I can’t believe one of them actually admitted it out loud!” Felix shouts above the din.

“I can’t believe it was Castiel!” Bal adds. “His party line has been, ‘Oh, I can’t have a relationship with one of my friends, it ruins everything,’ blah blah.”

“I didn’t say it would be a relationship,” Cas corrects him, rolling his eyes. “You have heard of friends with benefits, haven’t you, Bal?”

“Of course. I’ve _benefited_ many times. I’m just saying I didn’t think it would be your thing.” Dean frowns minutely as Bal quietly adds, “You could have told me that little detail.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cas says with a wistful sigh. “It’s not like Dean’s into me.”

Seeing the opening he’s sure Cas intended, he clears his throat and says, “I’d like to be.”

More shouts and squeals arise from their friends as Cas meets Dean’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dean takes a deep breath. 

Cas takes one, too. 

And then Cas prowls toward Dean, takes his hand, and says over his shoulder to the group, “You guys can entertain yourselves, I’m sure. We’re gonna go entertain each other. Show yourselves out.” He tugs Dean to his feet and pulls him toward their bedroom.

Dean swears he hears Vaughn say “shit” as they leave the room.

* * *

Once they’re behind closed doors, the two friends stifle their laughter. 

“Thanks for warning me!” Dean hisses, quiet enough for only the two of them to hear.

“Sorry! I wanted you to look surprised.”

“Uh, yeah, it worked.”

“Well, you got the gist of it quickly, thankfully.” Cas will replay those shining, hopeful eyes in his mind for a long time. He only wishes his friend truly felt that way toward him. Or not. Probably not. To have him actually feel the same sort of attraction that Cas feels...no. He’s already sworn off turning friendships into relationships. But he wouldn’t want Dean to just feel lust toward him, either. He wouldn’t want to be another conquest. They might have fun, sure, but he’s pretty certain he couldn’t tolerate that, especially with his feelings being what they are. Friendship is the only way to avoid heartbreak. Yet his heart breaks every day, feeling paralyzed to do anything about his feelings yet hoping selfishly that Dean won’t find someone else. He’s painted himself into a corner, and all the options suck. 

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles. “So, we’re having hot sex in here.”

“That is the idea.”

“Okay, well, I guess we’re stuck in here until everyone leaves.”

“If they leave. They might be waiting for us. To hear details.”

“Eww. Seriously?”

“It’s not like we’ve been shy about sharing details before.”

“Yeah, but this is...never mind.”

Cas isn’t sure what Dean was going to say, but the air is suddenly suffocating. He starts tapping on his leg with his fingers, trying to figure out how to break the chokehold, when Dean speaks up.

“Wish we’d brought food in here. I’m still hungry.”

And just like that, the tension is broken. Cas smiles. “You’re always hungry.”

“Yeah, so? I’m a growing boy.”

Cas’ smile becomes a smirk. “I’m going to have to remember to make a dirty comment about that from now on. When Vaughn’s around, anyway.”

“How’s this? ‘Well, I got something to feed you.’”

Nodding and frowning, considering, Cas declares, “Not bad. How about, ‘I’m growing, too. Wanna see?’ and then I put your hand on my crotch? Too much?”

“Jesus, Cas.” 

Dean’s face flames red. He blushes so easily. It’s completely endearing—as if his friend needs to be _more_ endearing. Cas clears his throat. “I’ll see if I can find some food.”

They spend the next couple of hours quietly trading raunchy things to say to freak Vaughn out and playing cards on Cas’ bed, snacking on Ritz crackers Cas finds in his desk.

In the morning, Cas turns on the coffeemaker and tries to engage Vaughn in small talk, but he won’t even look at him. He smiles to himself, thinking of how uncomfortable his roommate must’ve been with the idea that his two other roommates were doing the dirty last night in _his_ apartment. He hums as he scrambles eggs and fries sausage links.

When Dean comes into the kitchen and plops himself at their table, Cas offers him a cup of coffee and a fond smile. After cards, he stayed up late to plow through the work on the syllabus from the Literature class he’d put off until his senior year. “Dumbass,” he’s chided him every semester for avoiding it, though he’s anything but dumb. Noticing Vaughn glancing at them, he remembers that this is their “morning after.” What would “morning after” Cas and Dean be like? He should’ve thought of this before he came out of their room this morning. Finished with his cooking, his fond smile becomes lascivious as he slinks behind Dean’s shoulder and drops a plate in front of him. “To regain your strength,” Cas purrs, loud enough for Vaughn to hear. 

“I see you’re feeding me sausage this morning,” Dean quips in a suggestive tone.

“You seemed to like it last night, so…”

Dean snorts, then they grin at each other. Their reactions seem about right, Cas thinks—friendly, light, not too serious or “meaningful”. He joked with the couple of hookups he had breakfast with (if Pop-Tarts counted as morning-after breakfast). He joked with Grayson and Jordan like this, too, sometimes, though they never had a true breakfast together since they all lived in dorms. Not that that ever stopped him and Dean from having a good breakfast, Cas thinks warmly. They’ve always made the best out of a situation, always worked things out somehow. 

Vaughn leaves the kitchen in a huff, and the men slap hands silently.

* * *

One incident of fake sex is not enough, they quickly realize.

“He’s better at this game than I thought he’d be,” Cas moans on the way home from voting on Tuesday night. “I hoped he’d be broken down by now, but clearly he’s not. Or not enough, anyway.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah. We need to up our game. I mean, we’re flirting, though, every time we see each other in front of him.”

“Yes. But people like him read other people well. I wonder if he believes us.”

“Well, what else can we do? Can’t fuck in front of him.” Though if he had the chance to fuck Cas, Dean thinks, he’d fuck him anywhere in front of anyone.

“No, but we _can_ be more obvious.”

“So, what do you suggest, homie?”

“First of all, no more _homie_. If we were really hooking up, we wouldn’t call each other that.”

“Can I call you a snack?”

Cas raises a brow that does all sorts of things to Dean’s libido. “Baby, I’m a five-course meal.”

Dean tries desperately not to think about all of those courses he could enjoy with Cas. “Okay, then, Olive Garden, what do you suggest?”

Cas snickers at his comment. “Well, I think we need to make some noise.”

“Noise?”

“Yes. Let’s liven up Vaughn’s little poll-closing party, shall we? Follow my lead.”

Upon arriving at their apartment, they find exactly who they expect—Vaughn and his five closest buddies, watching the TV on Fox News as the election results come in. Cas toes off his shoes and collapses on the couch, flicking the TV to CNN. Dean is beat—he had a full class load today, plus labs, and he knows Cas’ schedule was just as full—so he follows Cas’ lead, as asked. And hey, if this is what Cas meant by following his lead, Dean is all for it. 

As it turns out, that’s not quite what he meant. 

Dean zones out for a few minutes and is surprised when Cas drops to his side, a couple of plates in his hands. He hadn’t noticed him get up from the loveseat. He takes one of the sandwiches (peanut butter and jelly, nice) and gobbles it down in seconds.

“Wow, you really sucked that down,” Cas observes with mirth in his eyes. 

“Dude, I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

Dean pauses. They had a conversation about this. “Hungry for you,” he rumbles as convincingly as he can, which isn’t difficult since it’s 1000% true. 

Cas raises his brows. “I was hoping maybe you were. So…” Cas turns the TV off. “You wanna?”

The little lip tug he does with his teeth is short-circuiting Dean’s brain. “Yeah.”

“‘Kay.”

Cas takes him by the hand and pulls him up. “You might want to turn the sound up a little,” he says to Vaughn. Dean sees their roommate’s eyes widen before he’s led into their bedroom.

Once in the confines of their private space, Cas presses his own back against the door and starts rubbing his body up and down. 

“What the fuck are you—”

Cas slams his body against it and waves his arms around. _It’s like he’s being held up against the door and...Jesus._ This is what Cas meant by making noise. Cas looks at him with a big grin, then winks as he loudly moans an “oh fuuuuck” that will be burned into Dean’s memory forever. He stifles a laugh while adjusting his pants.

After a couple of minutes, Cas moves to his bed and sits on it, cross-legged. He stays quiet, then slowly starts bouncing, adding small groans that increase in volume. _Shit._ Dean watches him, unsure what to do, until Cas beckons him with a crooked finger. “When I come,” he whispers, “you have to come, too. Loudly.”

Dean nods as he feels heat creep under his skin.

Cas increases his bouncing, moaning louder and adding “fuck” every so often, and then yells, “Yes, Dean, there, shit, _shit_ , yes!”

Dean digs his fingernails into his palms. _Stay cool. Play your part._ “Got you, Cas,” Dean calls out, and Cas gives him a thumbs-up.

“Yes, please, fuck, need you...yes!” Cas shouts. He’s “coming,” apparently, because he’s moaning and miming an erupting volcano over his crotch.

Dean, not sure if he wants to laugh or jerk off, shouts a loud “Fuck!” and a series of grunts as he “comes.” 

When it’s over, they grin at each other. 

“Was it good for you?” Cas whispers.

Dean throws his pillow at Cas’ head. Cas catches it, then stands. 

“Going to take a shower. I have to wash off your spunk.” 

“Bring food when you come back.”

“Of course. You need to build your strength back up.”

Chuckling quietly, Dean watches him slip through the door. Their little performance was a hell of a lot of fun, and now he has plenty of spank material. 

But will it be enough? 

And just as importantly, will he survive this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, was it good for you? 😘
> 
> And will Dean survive this? 
> 
> What do you think of Bal’s reaction? Is he genuinely upset, or is he simply a flirt and knows a good thing when he sees it? 
> 
> Happy weekend, everyone! ❤️


	6. Let’s Get Physical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commit to your craft. 😉
> 
> Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope this day (and every day) is filled with love. ❤️

Vaughn confronts Dean and Cas as they’re munching on eggs in a nest, a holdout from their dorm days. It’s the last day before Thanksgiving break, and they’re fueling up for a long day followed by a long several days of quality family time. “You two need to knock the shit off,” he growls.

“Knock what off?” Cas asks. 

“All of it. Having your weirdos here at the same time as my friends, bringing all these strangers around for your... _activities_ , and this”—he wags his finger between Cas and Dean—“just no. I’m not leaving, so you can drop the act.”

Fear races through Dean’s bloodstream. They’ve been pretending to have sex for a couple of weeks now, sometimes when Vaughn’s friends are there and sometimes when it’s just the three of them in the apartment. Dean thought they were doing a pretty good job, but obviously not.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says with his trademark confused head tilt that is completely adorable. 

“I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me uncomfortable so that I’ll leave. It’s not happening.”

_Oh shit, he’s onto us, and we’ve probably made it ten times worse for ourselves. I knew we should’ve just put up with the shit, it’s easier than fighting it, I knew—_

“I still don’t understand. What are you uncomfortable with?”

This makes Vaughn pause, which stops Dean’s spiraling panic. “I’m not. That’s the point.”

“So what is the problem, then? I really don’t understand.”

Vaughn licks his lips, his swaggering veneer showing its cracks. Dean cheers internally. The hunter became the hunted. He wants to give Cas an award for his performance. He wonders whether Cas would accept a blowjob as an award. He imagines himself and Cas dressed in tuxedos at some awards ceremony, Dean going down on his knees in front of the audience as he takes Cas into his mouth...

“You—you—just stop!”

Dean snaps to attention. 

“Stop what?” Cas asks.

“Being qu—Pretending to fuck! It’s annoying and embarrassing!”

Dean just knows that Vaughn wanted to say _stop being queer_. Anger and shame jockey for position in his brain, his father on his mind. His subtle but ever-present bias has always made Dean hesitate about a relationship with a guy...until Cas, at least. He looks to his best friend, who always helps to steady him. 

Cas is furrowing his brows at Vaughn, the picture of innocence. “You’ve said a lot, and I’m not sure I’m following. You said that you wanted us to ‘knock off’ having our ‘weirdos’ here at the same time as your friends, but didn’t we all agree when we met with the landlords that friends were fine to have here?”

Vaughn rolls his eyes and folds his arms. “Yeah, I guess…”

“And as far as strangers, neither of us has brought home anyone for any sort of sexual congress since our meeting.”

Silence. Dean smothers a snicker at “sexual congress.”

“And as for Dean and I, we are not strangers. We live here. I assumed our relations were permitted. Are they not permitted? And if not, why not? What would be the reason for two consenting, unrelated single adults who live in the same household to be ‘disallowed’ from having sex?”

Now Vaughn is squirming. It seems Cas has him right where he wants him. Dean can’t wait to see how the slippery bastard gets himself out of this without admitting he’s a homophobic asshole or admitting that he truly is uncomfortable, since he already said he wasn’t.

Finally, Vaughn sputters, “It’s not—yeah, I guess, but it’s fucking fake.”

“Fake?”

“Obviously.”

“So if it is fake, why are you uncomfortable?”

“I’m not!”

“And if it is real, which I assure you it is, then why are you uncomfortable?”

“I said _I’m not_! I’m just saying that you’re playing me, trying to make me uncomfortable so that I’ll leave!”

“Why would we do that? It doesn’t make sense to do that if our affections don’t make you uncomfortable.”

Clearly frustrated, Vaughn shouts, “You know what? Fine! Keep up your fake ‘affections’. Doesn’t bother me.”

With a gasp, Cas says, “Oh, I understand why you think our affections are fake. You haven’t _seen_ them. We were trying to be respectful and keep our PDA behind closed doors, but if you’re not uncomfortable...”

And with that, Cas walks around the table, grabs the back of Dean’s head, and plunges his tongue into his mouth.

_What the fuck oh fuck yes holy shiiiiiit..._

Dean grasps Cas’ face between his hands as he returns the kiss, their breath hot against each other’s faces. He whimpers. Cas moans. And then, as quickly as it began, it ends as Cas breaks it, petting his hair as they part. Dean carefully schools his face into what he hopes is a convincing _we do this all the time_ sort of look for their roommate.

“There. I have to say that it is so liberating not hiding our affections anymore. Thank you for encouraging us to be more open, Vaughn. So, have we addressed all of your concerns?”

Face red and teeth clenched, Vaughn storms out of the kitchen.

Cas sits and takes a sip of his coffee, picking up his phone and looking at the screen as if he didn’t completely shake Dean to the core of his core. Knowing they can’t talk about it right now (and quite certain he’d be a blathering idiot, anyway), Dean shoves all his feelings down and does the same.

* * *

As Dean turns his attentions to his phone, Cas attempts to talk down both his brain and his dick. _That was just for show. That wasn’t real, even if it felt real. Even if it felt good. Even if it was the best kiss of your entire fucking life. Even if you want to do it again and again. You cannot go there. You can’t._

_But you did._

_And now you’ll probably have to again to keep up the story._

_You brilliant, stupid bastard._

Cas swallows his last bite of breakfast, though he’s far from hungry now. “Walk with me to class?” he asks. 

Dean’s eyes flick up to meet his. “Yeah, sure,” he says roughly. The deep, slightly raspy quality of his voice makes Cas’ belly squirm. 

They wash their dishes (God forbid if they let any linger in the sink, though Vaughn is happy to let the trash can overflow with his take-out boxes), then collect their bags and head out.

The light traffic blends with the cold somehow, making it nearly noiseless on their way to campus. Or maybe that’s just the white noise in Cas’ head. He’s second-guessing everything he did this morning, everything he’s done so far. Maybe they should’ve brainstormed more options. Maybe they should’ve considered option L more seriously. Maybe they should’ve stayed in the dorms, or found another place, or...or maybe he shouldn’t have kissed Dean. Dean’s his best friend in the world, and to think he might’ve screwed that up just to put an asshole in his place—

“That was pretty masterful, homie,” Dean says, slicing through his thoughts. “He fuckin’ squirmed, dude.”

Cas shifts his eyes to catch Dean’s. He doesn’t look upset, so he chances a smile. “Yeah, he did.”

“Thought his blood vessels were all gonna pop at once when you kissed me.”

“Yeah.”

“Too bad they didn’t, huh? Problem solved.”

The joke surprises Cas, and he laughs, Dean laughing along with him. Maybe they’re okay. “Are you upset that I kissed you?” he asks when their laughter fades.

“Upset? No, I’m not upset.”

Releasing a breath, Cas nods. “Good. Sorry.”

“Hell, don’t be. Got the point across. And may I say, you’re a hell of a kisser. I can see why they call you Casanova around campus.”

“Asshole,” Cas grins, shoving him. “Only you call me that.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he grins in return. “So. What now?”

“I have no idea.” That’s not the whole truth—he does have one idea—but that idea is totally dependent on Dean’s agreement and his own ability to keep his dick in his pants and his heart in his chest. 

“Well, I mean, at this point we either continue as we were before or we don’t.”

Cas swallows his disappointment at Dean not bringing up their third option, the one Cas chose for them when he muckled onto Dean’s mouth. “Right.” 

They trudge up the hill toward the science building where Dean spends most of his time, walking through their crystallized breaths. Cas wonders which option Dean wants. As he’s about to ask, Dean says, “Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or…” Dean stops walking. He kicks at a pebble, then clears his throat. “Uh, good old option C.”

“Which is?”

His friend shifts on his feet. “Keep going with what you started. Ramp it up, even.”

A shallow breath struggles to leave Cas’ lungs. “Ramp it up?”

“Sure.” Dean resumes walking, so Cas follows, bumping into him gently as they go. “We said that Baron von Douchenozzle needed more exposure, right? Well, let’s give it to him. I mean, hey, clearly he’s cool with it, right? ‘Cause two dudes kissing is ‘permitted,’ apparently, and he’s not ‘uncomfortable,’ so why the hell not? We do it enough and he’ll probably choke on his own rage.”

“Probably,” Cas acknowledges with a snicker. “And I think it’s a good sign that he’s freaking out, accusing us of faking it. Whether he believes it or not, who knows? But he’s worried about it enough to confront us, so that’s good.”

“Agreed. So we keep going. Ramp it up.”

Cas nods. “But, uh, you’re sure you’re okay with this? I mean, I think it’s a good idea, I just don’t want _you_ to be uncomfortable while we try to make _him_ uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. At this point, I just...I kinda have to, you know? I wanna get him the hell out of our place, but even more, I wanna put him _in_ his place. I can’t do anything about _all_ the homophobic assholes, but I can do something about this one.”

Cas knows which homophobic asshole Dean would really like to put in his place. Suddenly, the mission feels bigger, and Cas feels better about the whole thing. They could get rid of their roommate _and_ give Dean the strength to stand up to his father, at least symbolically. The fact that it will be a pleasure to kiss Dean (although a painful one, ultimately) doesn’t matter nearly as much as the larger mission. 

Yes, this is all for the mission. 

“Okay. We’ll make him sorry he ever complained about us keeping our ‘affections’ behind closed doors.” They stop at the fork where their paths diverge and grin at each other. Cas sticks out his hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

“And I you,” Dean says as he pumps his hand in a firm handshake. “I’ve been impressed with your work so far.”

“As have I, good sir,” Cas replies with a haughty accent and a laugh. He shoves Dean toward his building before they’re both late for class.

* * *

Throughout the day, Dean and Cas text about their plan. They agree that they’re going to need some help to execute it to its maximum effect, and so they decide to consult with the queen of battle strategy: Charlie, LARPer and Dungeon Master extraordinaire.

“Okay,” she says after she listens to their ideas. “Well, one, I'm super disappointed that this isn’t a real thing between you. I totally think you could make it.”

“Charlie, look how things with Jordan and Grayson turned out,” Cas reminds her. “I screwed those up and I don’t even know how. I suck at that stuff.”

Dean turns away from the conversation and stares at the games on Charlie’s bookcase, hiding his disappointed frown from Cas. Their relationship would be nothing like those other relationships of Cas’, Dean just knows it.

“Jordan and Grayson were dipshits, Cas,” Charlie says flatly, voicing Dean’s thoughts.

“Be that as it may.”

“Anyway, okay, so here’s my advice. When in battle, there’s a time for subtlety and a time for full-on, in-your-face assault, and I totally agree that the time for that in-your-face assault is now. He’s making your lives miserable. So, here’s what you do: flirt like crazy, and make it as physical as possible. Grind into each other at the sink. Talk dirty. Make it super obvious what you’ve been doing when he’s not around, all over the apartment. Maybe leave a used condom on the floor near the couch.”

Though Dean would be more than willing to go that far for their ruse, he’s fairly certain Cas wouldn’t. He turns back to his friends and says, “Charlie, that’s a pretty big commitment there, kid.”

“Just use one from your latest hookup, it doesn’t matter—”

“Gross,” Dean says as Cas admits, “I haven’t had any in a long time.” 

Dean turns to face Cas fully. He’d hoped, but to hear it...“You haven’t?” 

Cas shrugs and shakes his head, darting his eyes to his feet.

“Uh, hey, me neither, man, don’t feel bad.” 

“No?” 

“Nah.” 

“Oh,” Cas says on a shallow breath. When Cas’ eyes lift to meet his, there’s something wide and wondering in them, like an open door on a gorgeous summer morning. Dean wants to run through it, pulling Cas with him. Then the door closes as Cas clears his throat. “I, uh, guess you’ve been too busy between work and labs and plotting to get rid of our roommate, huh?”

Cas is so far off the mark it’s laughable, but how can Dean admit that the real reason is because he can’t fuck somebody else and then come home to Cas, to their shared meals they make in their shared kitchen and eat on plates they bought together at a table made for two, to their ugly loveseat they barely fit on where Cas loses to him at video games and pouts with a hint of a smile, to where they brush their teeth together and argue over whose turn it is to wash the dishes and when to turn off the lights? How can he admit that the real reason is because he doesn’t want meaningless sex anymore, or sex with anyone but Cas, because he’s been slowly but steadily falling in love with him over the last two years? “Heh, yeah, guess so,” he replies, because he can’t admit any of it. “What’s your excuse, Casanova?”

“Same. You know how it is.” The words are rushed, and they leave Dean wanting to know the truth that Cas is hiding. He doesn’t have time to ponder it, though, as Cas shifts his attention to Charlie. “Anyway, we’ll figure out the condom thing if we decide to use it. Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah. You have to make out. A lot. I mean, you guys have to be totally lusting after each other’s hot bods, enough so you can’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Of course. It’s what bisexual men do when they’re around each other.”

Dean snorts. “Yup. It’s nature. We don’t make the rules.”

Cas throws his head back and laughs, then falls onto Dean’s shoulder. “With a mouth like that, how can I resist?” he asks, fluttering his dark lashes at him. Dean hides his blush by jerking his shoulder up, jostling Cas off him.

Charlie is giving them a look that Dean knows all too well, one he’s seen thrown his way several times. She knows. He makes a face at her to stop before Cas notices. She relents, pursing her lips. “Oh, and I think he needs to catch you in the act,” Charlie advises.

The men raise their brows.

“Not _that_ ,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “Although hey, commit to your craft. But I _meant_ get to know his schedule, and when he’s about to walk in the door, start making out on the couch or something, so that he walks into it. Make it look like you’re not doing this just because he’s around.”

“That’s a good idea,” Cas says thoughtfully. Dean needs no convincing. “Sometimes we don’t know when he’s coming home, though. He’s not always predictable. Can you text us if you happen to see him heading up?”

“Absolutely! In fact, that would be great, because then you really wouldn’t be expecting him and he would _know_ that you’re not expecting him, so it would be even more convincing!”

Cas nods, then frowns. “Do you think all this is too much for people who are only hooking up? We want to sell it, but not oversell it.”

“Nah. You’re college guys and besties who’ve just started something new, so be the horny horndogs you are.”

“He thinks all guys into guys are about the sex, anyway,” Dean says. Cas does have a point about overselling things, but selfishly, he really wants to kiss him as much as he can, so he doesn’t want to make their plan have _less_ of it.

“True,” he nods. “Okay. Is all this okay with you, Dean?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says as casually as he’s able, telling his heart to calm the fuck down.

“Okay. Um, we probably should just keep this between us, huh? Maybe Jo too, but that’s it. We should keep everyone else in the dark about this part of it. It’ll be more convincing, I think.”

“Totally.”

“Good idea,” Charlie agrees. “You want this all to be as natural as possible. And speaking of that, make sure the two of you look natural, too, huh? Make it look like you really want each other. And hey,” she grins, “if you’re gonna do this, you might as well enjoy it, so enjoy it and don’t get freaked out about it.”

 _Enjoy it, no problem. Don’t get freaked out, no promises_ , Dean thinks as he meets Cas’ eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Vaughn really knows, or is he just grasping at straws? And if he knows, how?
> 
> What do you think of Charlie’s plan?
> 
> And who, between Dean and Cas, will get the most freaked out? 
> 
> Hope you’re having as much fun with this story as I am! ❤️


	7. Boys Just Wanna Have Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the mission! 😏😂

It was good, sort of, to be away from the apartment for a few days. Cas missed Dean terribly, of course, but they spoke frequently during the Thanksgiving break. What he didn’t miss was all the drama of living with Baron von Douchenozzle. Unfortunately, he had the drama of being at home with Michael, another insufferable narcissist, who just HAD to come for Thanksgiving even though he barely speaks to them otherwise. All the thrice-divorced asshole did was attempt to one-up his siblings and their mother and stepfather by bragging about how much of a profit he and their father are turning in their criminal defense practice. Fortunately, he hadn’t lost his touch where Michael was concerned, and he managed to amuse himself (and the rest of his family) by annoying the shit out of him. 

Cas told his closest siblings, Gabe and Hannah, about the situation—the entire situation—with Dean. They were not helpful. _Hit that, Cas, hit that ass hard and often_ was Gabe’s advice, while _I know you’ve been hurt before, but you and Dean are special, please open your heart to him_ was Hannah’s. They came at the issue from opposite sides, but the same lack of insight. Didn’t they get it? Didn’t anyone get it? 

Pulling into a parking space and taking a deep breath to steady himself, he looks at the text messages he missed while driving:

_Mom 1:24pm: Call us when you get there._

_Mom 3:06pm: Don’t forget to call us when you get there. And remember what Pup and I said—we can get you out of that lease easily. You don’t have to live with that nasty boy._

Cas rolls his eyes. His mom and stepfather, George—Pup, as he affectionately calls the man who raised him since he was four years old—knew about the Vaughn situation, but he’d told them to leave it alone, that he and Dean were dealing with it (though he didn’t disclose _how_ ).

His phone vibrates in his hand. Speaking of Dean…

_Dean 3:26pm: FYI, fucker’s here. Was here when I got here. Already made a fucking mess, too. His shit is all over his side of the LR. Also, it smells like rodent in here and I’m not sure why._

_Cas 3:27pm: Awesome. Okay, I’ll see you in a minute. Just gotta grab my crap and walk up._

_Dean 3:28pm: Need help?_

_Cas 3:28pm: No. You still want to go with our plan?_

_Dean 3:28pm: Yeah_

_Cas 3:29pm: Okay. Go with what I do, then._

Cas tucks his phone into his pocket and pulls out his suitcase, his sack of clean laundry (thanks, Mom), and a tub of apple strudel (thanks, Pup). He locks his car, then calls his mom to assure her he’s not dead (it’s not enough to text; she has to hear his voice). That done, he tries to quell the giddy-anxious anticipation rising from his gut to his chest as his brain argues with him about what he’s planning to do when he sees Dean.

_It’s the only way._

_It’s not the only way._

_It’s the best way._

_There are other ways._

_But you want to._

_Shit._

The walk is too short, and soon he’s in front of their door. 

_It’s not for you, it’s for the mission._

_Yeah, right._

He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Dean is sitting on their loveseat, watching what Cas recognizes as one of the _Fast and the Furious_ movies, though he has no idea which one. Vaughn is at his kitchen table, sifting through his latest box from Amazon. He swears the delivery guy practically lives at their door. The men both turn at the noise. Dean looks excited to see him, as he always does. Vaughn looks mildly constipated, as he always does.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean calls as he springs over the back of the couch to greet him.

“Hey, yourself,” Cas rumbles, dropping his things to the floor and meeting him halfway. He yanks his best friend to him, hip in one hand and face in the other, and smashes their lips together like desperate lovers facing down Armageddon. Dean goes with it with equal vigor. Cas is impressed with his friend’s acting skills—it’s only their second kiss, yet he’s making it look like he knew it was going to happen. Like he _wanted_ it to happen. _Could he…? No._ Cas breaks their kiss before he enjoys it _too_ much (though he’s really not fooling himself with that thought) and asks, “Do you know how sad it was to jerk off in my childhood bedroom, thinking about you?”

“As sad as it was for me to be late to Thanksgiving dinner because I was jerking off thinking about you.”

It’s a lie, he knows, but _holy shit, that visual._ “Hope you didn’t use up all your lube.”

“Hell, no. Come on.”

And for the first time, Dean initiates the kiss, backing him through the living room and toward their bedroom. It’s a different feeling, receiving the kiss instead of starting it, and it’s messing with his head. When they reach the bedroom, Dean slams the door shut and they separate. 

“I, uh…” Dean starts, but Cas shushes him and pushes him against the door. 

“We’ve already established that we can’t make it to the bed without stopping at the door to make out first,” he whispers. 

He urges Dean to move around a little, just enough to make the hollow-core door shake in its frame. Standing before him to his left, Cas closes his mouth and utters a garbled moan, as if his mouth is full of Dean’s tongue. Dean puts his fist to his lips, probably trying not to laugh. Cas doesn’t want him to laugh, because it’ll blow their cover, but he does want to make him struggle because he can be an asshole when he wants to be, so he hams it up and adds sucking sounds by tonguing his own hand. Dean squeezes his eyes closed. Cas finds the whole thing amusing...until he notices a shadow under the crack of the door. _What...the fuck._

Cas slams his body into Dean’s. “Are we gonna fuck or what? Stop teasing me,” he growls. “Or do you want a blowjob instead?” And with that, he gets down on his knees.

* * *

Dean watches Cas drop, his head spinning. _Holy shit. What the hell is he...is he really…_

Cas points to the door and mouths, “He’s out there.” He points again, this time to the floor, where there’s a darker spot than the area around it. A shadow. _Eww, what a perv_. _And what a disappointment_. 

“Drop your pants,” Cas orders aloud. 

Without a thought, Dean does.

Dean’s pulse races as they stare at each other. Cas seems surprised, maybe because he actually did it or maybe because of how easily he did it. It surprises him, too. A little. And turns him on a lot. His best friend’s commanding voice _does things_ to him. Things that make him want to obey. 

As much as he should worry about that, perhaps, they have bigger issues to deal with, so he shoves it to the back of his mind to review later. “Suck it, Cas, then I’ll fuck you with it,” he says, just loud enough that their audience hears it. The walls and doors are thin, so it doesn’t take much.

“You fucked me last time, I’m fucking you this time,” Cas retorts. They make argumentative faces back and forth until they seem to realize, simultaneously, that they’re arguing about sex that never happened and isn’t going to. They smother their giggling behind their hands. 

Dean capitulates to Cas’ fake declaration. “Fine, but you’re still sucking my dick.”

“Fuck yeah. But on the bed, that way I can finger you at the same time. You _know_ you need to be loosened up for me.” He grins broadly and wiggles his brows.

Dean smirks at Cas’ joke while imagining how very true it might be and how very much he’d like to find out. “Shit, Cas,” he mutters for Vaughn’s benefit, though the breathiness of his voice is all Dean.

“Out of those pants and onto my bed.” Cas pulls him away from the door, then lifts his own shirt and slaps his side. Dean shoots him a questioning look until Cas says, “Now. Don’t make me slap your ass again.”

Dean swallows. “You know I like it.” _Oh, would I like it._

“Move it, asshole,” Cas laughs. Dean is concerned for just a second that Cas “broke character,” but then realizes that they’d probably be very much like that, bossy and lusty and funny. He aches for it. 

He does pull his pants all the way off, grabbing his phone out of his pocket first, then slips on a pair of sweats before they sit on Cas’ bed. Dean watches the shadow move away as Cas bounces on the mattress while his thumbs fly over his phone. Dean’s phone vibrates in his hand.

_Cas 4:12pm: I can’t believe he was spying_

_Dean 4:12pm: He really doesn’t believe us_

If this doesn’t work, Dean thinks, they don’t have any other good options. Housing near campus is full, and he has too much shit to do on campus to make commuting from farther away viable. He _really_ doesn’t want to go back to the dorms, because he knows they won’t end up together. Anxiously, he meets Cas’ eyes, which are...amused.

_Cas 4:13pm: Or he’s curious_

_Cas 4:13pm: REALLY curious_

_Cas 4:13pm: “Dean, I pretend I’m a conservative twat but I really want you to bust my ass open”_

Friggin’ Cas, Dean thinks affectionately. He shakes his head and tries desperately not to laugh. Cas can tell, of course, and lets out a loud grunt, as if he’s shoving into a particularly tight hole. 

_Cas 4:14pm: Can’t. Fit. Too. Tight._

Dean slaps Cas’ arm without thinking.

Cas mouths _ooh baby_ and winks at him, which just about sends him to an early grave. “Like that?” he says aloud, then lifts his shirt and slaps his own flank again, grunting and bouncing faster. 

“Fuck yeah,” Dean says, his voice too strained and breathy. Cas gives him an impressed thumbs up, then picks up his phone again.

_Cas 4:18pm: What are the chances he’s out there jerking off?_

Dean’s face contorts in disgust. 

_Cas 4:19pm: The rodent smell is his sex smell_

Now he’s just being a dick to make him laugh, Dean knows. He tries valiantly to win the silent challenge. Of course, he’d do better if he just put his damn phone down, but then he wouldn’t be winning fair and square.

_Cas 4:19pm: “Dean, fuck me on my side of the living room”_

_Cas 4:19pm: “Dean, fuck me with my Trump dildo”_

_Cas 4:19pm: “I ordered it from Amazon”_

_Cas 4:20pm: “They molded his actual penis to make it. It’s the size of my pinky and it fits just right”_

_Cas 4:20pm: “I used it on your bed while you were gone”_

_Cas 4:20pm: “While I smelled your pillow”_

_Cas 4:21pm: “Come see how much dick fits into one guy”_

Remembering their conversation from when they first moved in, Dean cracks. Cas covers his outburst with a loud, fake yelp, then a real one when Dean gets his revenge by tickling his very ticklish friend. Real bouncing and panting are happening now, and Dean nearly forgets they’re putting on an act until Cas starts “coming,” making Dean back off and “come,” too. 

They sit in the afterglow of their game, tired and skin slightly shiny with their exertion. “Perfect,” Cas whispers.

 _Almost,_ Dean thinks.

Cas wiggles his brows, mouthing _Watch this_. He whips off his own shirt and gestures for Dean’s. Dean pulls his purple t-shirt off and hands it over. Cas flips it inside out and puts it on. He takes his jeans off, leaving him in his boxers. He ruffles his hair more at the top, until it looks like Dean’s fingers have gripped it in the throes of passion, then rubs his cheeks until his face is red. He peeks at the mirror, then licks his lips and runs his teeth over them until they’re red, too. “There. Do I look like I’ve just fucked you after several days apart?” he whispers.

 _I fucking wish._ Dean nods.

“Good. Be right back. I’ll get the strudel Pup made for us while I’m out there. I’m starving.” 

Dean’s brows perk up in interest, both in the promise of strudel and in the way Cas’ ass sways as he saunters out of their room, as relaxed as can be. 

“Hey Vaughn,” he hears Cas say. “How was your Thanksgiving?” Dean peeks out the door to watch and stifles a laugh at Cas’ brazen display of his asscrack in their roommate’s direction.

“Fuckin’—” Vaughn starts, then continues, strained and gritting his teeth, “It was fine. Yours?”

“Great, thanks. Sorry, all my clean sheets and towels and shit are out here. Clean up, you know? Things get messy sometimes.”

Vaughn makes a face behind Cas’ back that makes Dean smile. Maybe he does believe them—or, at the very least, is bothered by them, which also works in their favor. He decides to up the ante. He slips his sweatpants off and ambles out of their room in just his boxers, exaggerating his normal bowleggedness as if he’s a bit sore and stretched. “I thought you were getting food,” he pouts, scooching down across from him. “Need to gear up for round two here. Ain’t lettin’ you loose yet.” 

“Sorry. Looking for a come cloth.”

“A nasty napkin?”

“A spunk sponge.”

“A whitewash washcloth?”

“A wicked wipe.”

“A flop mop?”

“A randy rag.”

Dean snorts with amusement at their old game of who can come up with the best euphemism. “A randy rag. That was quite a reach, Cas.”

“That’s what Randy said.”

Dean falls over, cackling. Cas throws a towel on him. “Too late, dude,” he says, voice muffled under the terrycloth. “Used your shirt, since you stole mine.”

“The swipe of shame. Damn.”

“No shame here.”

Now Cas cackles. Dean hears footsteps, then a door slamming. He pulls the towel off his face to look at Cas, who’s grinning.

“And that’s that,” he whispers, gesturing to the now empty kitchen. “Strudel?”

“Damn right.”

Dean grabs lounge pants out of Cas’ laundry bag for both of them, and one of his t-shirts for himself. He gets a stupid thrill out of putting on his best friend’s clothes and seeing Cas in his shirt. He gets another thrill a moment later when Cas pulls him to his feet and dances him to the kitchen playfully, celebrating their small victory, and another when they smile at each other as they munch on strudel while Cas makes penne alfredo for dinner. 

This plan is the best and worst thing to ever happen to Dean, he’s sure of it.

And he has a feeling it’s only going to get better and worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a lovely nature hike with our dog, my husband and I brainstormed all those euphemisms. Fortunately, no one was around to overhear. 😂 He’s a supportive bean. My Discord lovelies also helped me out. Which euphemism was your favorite?
> 
> Dean thinks things are going to get better and worse. What do you think?


	8. More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting better and worse. 😉

With the apparent success of their return-from-Thanksgiving antics, they start their full-bore assault on Vaughn’s sensibilities on the Monday after Thanksgiving. Dean has finally landed in the living room after a long-ass day of classes; he has an equally long night of studying planned. Cas is in the kitchen, setting the timer for the frozen chicken fingers and fries he just popped into the oven after what Dean knows was his own long day of student teaching at the local high school and a peer education session at Shurley Hall. Vaughn is in class, not due back until after 9:00, and they’re ready to take full advantage of his absence to relax and study in peace when they get a group text from Charlie:

_Charlie 6:22pm: The Baron has arrived at the castle! I repeat, the Baron has arrived at the castle!_

Dean glances at his phone. “What the fuck?” he mutters, staring at the screen. “Did he skip out? I thought he—”

The loveseat bounces, and suddenly Cas is in his face. “Make out with me,” he demands. 

For a second, Dean panics at being granted his masturbatory fantasy, but quickly wises up, dropping his pen and pulling Cas to him. They open for each other easily, tongues dancing as if they’ve been doing it for years. It feels damn good, and Vaughn sounds awfully surprised and disgusted by it when he walks in, so that’s a bonus.

A few nights after that they receive another text, this one from Jo. 

_Jo 7:54pm: Make way for the Baron!_

Dean and Cas look at each other over their textbooks. 

“He’s early,” Cas notes. “Weird. He’s usually late coming back from these things.” They thought he was going to be at his Young Republicans meeting until at least 8:30.

“Very weird,” Dean acknowledges. “Well, what do you think?”

“We have a plan in place for a reason.”

And with that, the men join on the loveseat, even more easily than the last time. They begin with simple swipes of their tongues and hands in each other’s hair, figuring it won’t be long before they’re interrupted. As time passes without the expected interruption, hands wander to chests and mouths wander to necks. It’s unexpected but wholly intoxicating; Dean drinks it in, relishing the buzz of it under his skin. 

Cas stops suddenly. “Where the hell is he?” 

Dizzy and irritated with being cut off from his drug of choice, Dean wants to shout _Who the hell cares?_ Instead, he says, “No idea. Maybe he stopped to talk to Wyatt?” Wyatt is the neighbor next to Jo and Charlie. He talks to anyone and everyone.

“Maybe,” Cas frowns. Hesitantly, he asks, “Should we continue? Make ourselves look even more sexed up than usual?”

 _Yes, yes, yes!_ “Uh, well, he’ll be here any second. Might as well be convincing. I was hoping to get him out of here by Christmas break.”

“Me too. Okay then.” Cas crushes their mouths together. Dean just barely suppresses a moan. It’s even harder when Cas says a minute later, “Suck on my neck.”

Dean stops. Backs up. Stares at Cas. “What?”

“Suck on my neck. Give me a hickey. We can drive him crazy with a visual reminder.” 

“Good idea,” he says, though his brain, heart, and dick are having an argument over whether it really is a good idea (his brain is saying no, his heart is saying yes, and his dick is saying _hell yes_ ). Before the argument can continue, Dean puts his mouth on Cas’ neck. “Right here?” he mumbles, his mouth full of Cas’ skin.

“Lower. Hideable for my student teaching, but visible when lounging around the apartment.”

Dean adjusts. “Here?”

“No,” Cas laughs. He takes Dean’s head and moves it. “Here’s good.”

Dean starts sucking, but it feels...clinical, somehow. Not nearly as hot as he’d imagined it. _That’s good_ , his brain cheers. _That means you won’t get used to this, and you won’t get hurt._ The reminder that this is all he’ll get is like a cold shower.

“Dean? You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, just thinking of how hot this is,” he says sarcastically, mouth pressed just above Cas’ clavicle.

Cas huffs a short laugh. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird. If you don’t want to—”

“Nah, it’s not that, I just…” Dean isn’t sure what to say, or how to say it, or if he should say it. “It’s just easier to do in the heat of the moment, I guess.”

Cas nods, then grabs his face and thrusts his tongue into his mouth. Dean presses against him and grips his hair tightly, the strands poking through his fingers. It almost feels real, the passion between them, and soon Dean’s lips travel down, down, biting on his skin, sucking it until it blooms red. Cas gasps and shudders, and it feels real. It _must_ be real, because there’s nobody around. It’s just them, and it’s hot and sweaty, and Cas’ blood thrums under his lips, and Cas is clutching his ribs and digging his fingers in so hard Dean’s sure he’ll bruise, and—

Cas backs away, panting. “Hell, did they make a mistake? Where is he?”

Dean swallows his arousal and disappointment. “Dunno, man.”

Shifting, Cas says, “Sorry. My, uh...yeah. Ouch, man.” He lightly pats at the spot on his neck. “Is it a good one?”

“Very.”

“Nice.” Licking his lips, Cas says, “Um, sooo, maybe they were mistaken? I’m sorry for...I mean, if I made it go too long, I should’ve paid attention to the time, I—”

“Hey, no, no, it’s cool. I’ll text Jo and ask what the hell happened.”

He does, and gets a _Sorry, my bad!_ in response. “Her bad,” he says dryly. 

“Oh. Well, uh, I guess we got something done, anyway.” He grins as he pats at the bruise again. “Uh, and hey, the practice is good.”

“The practice is good or the practice is _gooood?_ ” Dean can’t help but ask, glutton for punishment that he is. But Cas surprises him. 

“Maybe both,” he shrugs shyly, looking anywhere but at Dean.

Dean wills away the butterflies in his chest. “Yeah. Same. Uh, I know this is weird, but we’re friends, you know? We always have a good time together, even when we’re doing dumb shit.”

“Especially when we’re doing dumb shit.”

Chuckling, Dean says, “Right. So, I mean, I guess this can be just another dumb thing we do together. Like Charlie said, we can enjoy it. Doesn’t have to be...anything. It’s just us, you know?”

Nodding slowly, Cas meets his eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

Dean smiles. “Okay.”

Making out gets easier after that, and a hell of a lot more fun. The brief conversation allows them to enjoy this thing they have to do without it becoming a “thing.” Of course, for Dean, it was already a thing, and the more he kisses Cas, the more of a thing it becomes.

Just how much of a thing is confirmed by an incident two weeks later.

It’s an ordinary night. Dean is studying his ass off for his Lit final and Cas is scrolling on his phone. Their phones ping in unison.

_Charlie 6:06pm: Hark! The Baron arriveth!_

Dean pokes Cas’ fuzzy-socked foot with his own bare one. Cas just arrived home a couple of minutes ago himself. The fuzzy socks are part of his “home for the night” ensemble: the socks, thin, plaid lounge pants, a t-shirt, and an expensive university sweatshirt his parents bought him from the spirit shop that looks as soft as Cas’ hair does the morning after he’s washed it. He looks cozy slumped into the worn floral cushions, but his pink-stained cheeks betray the chill under his skin. Poor guy’s probably still trying to warm up from the cold walk back from class. Dean supposes they _could_ skip this one—they don’t have to be caught making out _every_ time; it’s probably not even realistic—but Dean’ll be damned if he doesn’t take every delicious opportunity he has, knowing they’ll come to an end eventually. He peers at Cas and waves his phone. Cas nods.

If Cas were a date, or hell, even a hookup, Dean would act confident and seductive, breaking out his charming, sultry smirk. But Cas makes him feel so different than anyone else ever has. Unfortunately, “different” means stumbling and awkward, his gigantic, dopey crush destroying any chance Dean has of being suave. Cas knows him too well, anyway, knows the guy behind the guise of confidence. So instead of being suave, his smirk is teasing, his “Well, come on, baby” completely and obviously put-on.

“Oh, I’ll come, baby, if you do it right,” Cas replies with a wink as he slides next to him. 

Dean snorts inelegantly, leaning his head on Cas’ shoulder. “Stop making me laugh! This is serious business; we’re supposed to be hot for each other.”

“Mmm, I’m not feeling very hot. Maybe if I do this—”

And before Dean can defend himself, Cas’ frigid hands are under his shirt.

“Asshole! Holy—what the fuck, Corpse Bride!” Dean cries, arching his back and pushing ineffectively at Cas’ hands. Cas cackles, moving his hands to a new spot every time Dean grabs for him. “Did you come from the _morgue_ , dude? Shit, go burn your books and stick your hands in the fire!”

“But, Dean, I have all the heat I need right here!”

“Fuck you, you’re taking all mine!”

“It’s a biological drive to survive! I can’t help it!”

“The fuck you can’t!”

They’re laughing so hard as they scramble around on the loveseat that they don’t notice Vaughn and his buddy Ethan walk in until their front door slams. They peek up from the loveseat like the ferret that Vaughn brought home with him after Thanksgiving—the source of the rodent smell. (So much for no pets in apartments.) Cas is convinced that Vaughn brought it back to annoy them, but the joke's on him, because the squirmy, beady-eyed little thing is sort of cute and smells better than Vaughn does. Less weaselly, too.

“Hello,” Cas says, cool as a cucumber (a cucumber stored in the coldest part of the fridge, given how chilly the hand still on his ribs is). 

Ethan smiles and raises his hand in a wave, while Vaughn huffs and says, “We’re finishing a project, so keep it down. Or better yet, go somewhere else.”

The impatience—no, not even that, the _dismissal_ , just like his father treats him—is hard to take. Dean reminds himself that this is just a guy (a guy that he’d like to punch in the face). He’s not his father, he’s just an asshole who's _like_ his father. 

Still, Dean’s body reacts. His stomach sours; the good feelings dissipate, replaced by a cold, solid anxiety in his gut. 

The hand on his ribs strokes his skin; another hand turns his face. Cas smiles at him, then pulls his chin forward and lays a kiss on his lips. It’s not the makeout session they were going to get into. It’s not lusty, not hard or hot. It’s gentle, comforting. “How about I quiz you on all of those Lit terms you’ve been bitching about?” he asks when they part.

“Y-yeah, okay,” Dean manages. 

Cas smiles again, caressing his face. “Okay. I'm gonna grab some leftover casserole. Want some?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“’Kay. Stay here.” Cas kisses him once more, lingering, then unfolds his legs and strides away. Dean watches him go, certain of one thing: They might not be screwing, but he is so screwed.

“Told you they were more,” he hears Ethan say in hushed tones to Vaughn.

“Shut up,” their roommate replies in a harsh whisper, no doubt through clenched teeth.

* * *

 _What are you doing, you fucking idiot?_

The makeout sessions have been difficult enough. Cas wasn’t going to let himself enjoy them, but he has sometimes—and he’s pretty sure Dean has, too. Fine. It happens. They’re two people who like sex, who like kissing and hair pulling and hands on skin, so of course they’re going to get into it. That’s their nature (he allows himself a bit of amusement at this). And so far, except for the minor inconvenience of his heart whining every time they break apart, it’s worked out okay.

But now...oh, now he’s done it. He let himself give Dean affection—not that he doesn’t ever give him affection (in the form of kind words, shoulder slaps, or maybe a hug). This affection, though, _this_ affection was coupled with a kiss—no, _two_ kisses—and a fucking _stroke of his face_ worthy of those Nicholas Sparks books his mom likes to read. He’s mixing his feelings into their ruse, and he can’t do that. 

But it felt so fucking good and so fucking _right._

Which is, of course, the problem.

The next day, on his way to the high school for his student teaching, he decides he’ll confide in Charlie, who’s riding in with him for her own student teaching assignment at the middle school next door.

“I think we need to figure out something else,” he tells her.

She doesn’t even ask what he’s talking about. “Why?”

“Uh...it’s, um, it’s just...making out with Dean is cool and all, it’s just…”

He can’t do it. As close as he is to Charlie, he can’t tell her what he’s rapidly realizing is happening to him—or really, what he’s known for a while and denied, hoping that if he ignored it that it would stop growing.

“It’s just what?”

“I just...think we need to figure out a different plan.”

Charlie nods in understanding. “Yeah. He’s clearly grossed out, but he needs one final push.”

Preoccupied as he is, he doesn’t process what she means at first. “What?”

“Vaughn. The making out, having sex, et cetera isn’t quite enough to push him over the edge. But I think I know what will.”

This isn’t remotely where he thought this conversation would go. Charlie’s usually way more intuitive about feelings that people are trying to hide, and she usually calls them on it. It’s a relief, in a way. Maybe he’s not being all that obvious after all...though his fear isn’t as much about being obvious (though it’s a big fear, too) as it is about giving in to those feelings. If Dean’s even into him anyway. Which doesn’t matter, because he can’t, though this plan is really testing his resolve. He can only imagine what Charlie might suggest.

He does want Vaughn out, though. The asshole continues to be obnoxious, and he suspects that the jerk has even stooped to stealing their food and “misplacing” things they need for class. Plus, he knows Dean hates the guy and makes him feel like shit, and that’s enough for Cas. He needs to go.

“I’m listening,” Cas says.

“Later. We need to have a meeting. Find out what Dean’s schedule is for tonight, and we can all meet up at our place.”

It’s late when they all meet up, but they manage. Cas is surprised to see Bal there, too. “Charlie?” His eyes dart to Bal, then back.

“I filled Bal in on your fake boinking.”

“Charlie…” Cas and Dean say in unison.

“Yeah, I know, but we need extra soldiers to win this battle,” she says. She waves her hand at them to sit. “Okay, so here’s the thing: I’ve been watching your roommate, and I think you’re missing an important piece.”

“What?” Dean asks.

“He sees you guys as purely a sexual thing, which disgusts him, yes, but it doesn’t shake up his worldview. You guys have said it yourselves: he thinks that guys who are into other guys are only into it for the sex. Your actions play into that beautifully. He’s grossed out, yeah, for sure. He hates it, and it makes him super uncomfortable. But it doesn’t poke at his core beliefs. What you really have to do is get him to see you beyond the sex, really _dig_ at everything he holds dear.”

Understanding dawns in Cas’ mind, and he loves it and hates it all at once. “We have to buck his expectations. We have to...fuck, we really have to do this.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks. He turns Cas toward him. “What do we have to do?”

Cas swallows. “To beat him, we have to...date.”

“We have to what now?” Dean asks as Charlie stomps her feet and squeals.

“Yes! You have to be more than just fuck buddies. You have to kiss and tease and dance and do special little things for each other, and…”

Cas blocks out Charlie’s voice as the panic sets in. _I have to pretend to be his boyfriend. I have to kiss him like I kissed him last night, I have to look in his eyes and call him honey and convince Vaughn I want to date Dean while trying to convince myself I_ **_don’t_ ** _want to date Dean and fuck I—_

“...problem. That’s why Bal is here.”

Snapping back to attention, Cas asks, “Problem? What? Why?”

“We’ve already established, loudly, that you don’t want a relationship,” Bal speaks up. “So, we need you to have a fight.”

“A fight,” Cas and Dean say in unison, once again.

“Yes. Just a little conflict, really, but one that puts that idea to bed, so to speak. And it has to be in front of our friend, so he sees it clear as day. I’ll get it started for you. You just...play along, realize you want to date somewhere along the way, and there you have it. Enter romance, exit roommate.”

A headache flirts at Cas’ temples. “What do you think, Dean?” He turns to his friend, who’s already looking back at him with...the only word he can think of is _significance._ He couldn’t turn away from that look if he wanted to.

“Uh, well, I mean, Douchenozzle did seem put out by something Ethan said about us being more, so it could work.”

“Ethan said we were more?”

“Yeah. Last night, when you nearly froze me to death with your hands. He said ‘I told you they were more’ to Vaughn.”

_The playing. The touching. The kissing. Fuck._

“Oh. Uh, well, guess that’s good, right?”

Dean turns his eyes toward his knees but nods in agreement. “Yeah, I mean...yeah.” 

Cas licks his lips, not knowing how to interpret Dean’s avoidance of eye contact. “Um, well. Okay, so, the dating thing. Are you okay with it?” 

“Are you okay with it? ‘Cause I know how you feel about...you know.”

“Well, it’s all...yeah, it’s fine. But don’t avoid my question. I wanna know how you feel about it. It’s not worth it if it’ll make you uncomfortable, Dean.”

“No, it won’t, it...heh, uh, it’s fine.” Dean raises his head. “Think of all the dates we’ve already been on, Cas.” He winks and points finger guns at him.

With a chuckle, Cas says, “Going to the dining hall on Fine Dining Night is not a date, Dean.”

“No,” Dean laughs, “but we’ve gone to dinner, and the movies, and bowling, and those stupid nature hikes you like, and let’s not forget the planetarium—”

“You _promised_ you wouldn’t bring up the planetarium ever again! That was a horrible night!” After his breakup with Grayson, they broke their own rule about excessive drinking and got trashed, ending up at the Planetarium (and getting kicked out of it later). 

“No, that _day_ was horrible. And the following morning. That night, however, was pretty damn fun.”

He can’t deny it. “Yeah, it was. Thank God I had you.” They smile softly at each other. Cas thinks of how Dean supported him through that, how he’s been there for everything, how much fun they have together, how there’s no one in the world he fits with better than Dean, and…

“See? You already know what you’re doing!” Charlie squeals.

“And because you live together, doing all those lovey-dovey things will be easy,” Bal adds. “So, I think we have a good plan, don’t you?”

Teetering on the edge of _something_ , Cas asks, “Well, what do you think, Dean?”

“Let’s do it, homie,” Dean grins. He raises his hand for a high-five.

Their hands linger, like Cas’ worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my... here we go! What do you think of Charlie’s plan? 
> 
> What do you think will happen next? Any predictions? Lots of feelings happening on both sides...
> 
> I feel like Charlie and Jo weren’t very reliable reporters. I wonder why? 😂


	9. Trial by Fire

As he makes snacks for their friends, who are coming over to discuss last-minute details for the Alliance’s annual holiday celebration, Cas thinks about their ongoing problem and wonders if this fake fight/fake dating thing will really solve it, once and for all. He’s desperate to get this asshole out of their apartment. Hell, the ferret makes a better roommate—he may stink and have a habit of pooping in corners if let out of his cage, but he’s quiet and sort of fun. Cas takes him out when Vaughn isn’t around and plays with him. He’s pretty sure the ferret (who doesn’t seem to have a name) even likes him better than Vaughn, which amuses him. He wouldn’t miss Baron von Douchenozzle at all, but he’d miss the ferret a little. And, Cas has to admit, he’d miss this thing-that’s-not-a-thing with Dean a _lot._

That’s another problem. He’s horny _all the time_ now, and the more he and Dean make out, the worse it gets. A few of those makeout sessions have ended up being more than just the thirty seconds it takes Vaughn to get his ass upstairs, either because Charlie or Jo have been mistaken about who was arriving ( _Sorry! False alarm!_ they’ve claimed, though Cas has his suspicions) or because they mutually decided they needed to look a little more flushed and ruffled than usual. Cas hasn’t minded one bit, except that it’s completely awful when it’s not completely blissful. He vacillates between taking Charlie’s advice to “enjoy it and don’t get freaked out” and completely freaking out, because when he enjoys it, it begins to feel real, and when it feels real, there’s a danger that it’ll become real, and that...well, that can’t happen, of course.

Jordan and Grayson had both been good friends, or he thought they were, at least. Not Dean-level good, but he doesn’t think anyone could hit that. The breakups hurt, in part because he lost the friendships he had with them. As a child, he was painfully shy and lost in his family of older, quicker, and stronger-minded siblings, and it took awhile for him to stand up for himself and make his place. That happened in his friendships, too. It was often easier for him to watch rather than get involved (and eventually get rejected). He’s doing better with that now, and certainly feels more confident in himself overall, but insecurities take a long time to work through and he still doesn’t make friends easily. When he does, he’s deeply loyal and connected. So losing his exes’ friendships was painful, and losing the intimate relationships he had with them hurt more because of it. Maybe, someday, he’ll feel differently about those relationships. Maybe he’ll realize that relationships come and go, friends first or not, and he’ll be more willing to let someone in.

Or maybe the problem is that he already knows that relationships come and go, and he doesn’t want that with Dean. He screwed up twice already, and he’ll be damned if he loses his best friend. 

_But lots of people fall in love with their best friends. Marry their best friends. Live the rest of their lives quite happily with their best friends._

Cas sighs at the ongoing argument between his heart and his brain. _It doesn’t matter_ , Cas tells himself. _You have a boner problem, not a relationship problem. Why are you even thinking about this?_

He mixes the honey, soy sauce, and butter glaze for the wings a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Whoa, man,” Dean cautions him with a smile. “I know you like it rough and messy, but save that for later, would ya?” 

Cas jumps. He hadn’t heard him approach. Dean grins widely. “Asshole,” Cas mutters, affection under his gruff rebuke. “Don’t startle me.”

“Sorry. You okay?”

“Oh yeah, just spacing out. Stressed. You know.”

“I got the cure, baby,” he winks. He wiggles his hips and tongue in a way that’s comically alluring.

“You look like you have the disease, not the cure,” Cas teases. “I think you’re possessed.”

Dean flips him off, then gasps in excitement. “Cas, it’s our song!”

Cas had tuned out the music playing from his phone beside him, but now listens and grins crookedly as his favorite goofball swivels his hips and swings his fist above his head like he’s about to throw a lasso. “Well, I feel like bustin’ loose, and I feel like touchin’ you,” Dean sings, bouncing his shoulders and his eyebrows with the words. Laughing at the performance, Cas leans against the counter to take it all in. 

Dean, however, is not going to allow him to be a passive participant. He prowls toward him and reaches out, grabbing his waistband and tugging their bodies together. “It’s gettin’ hot in here, so take off all your clothes,” he belts out, moving them to the beat. Cas sings the next line in a breathy falsetto (or as falsetto as he can get), wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and letting him lead them in circles. He may have to calm his dick (and heart) down every time he sees Dean these days, but that’s not going to stop him from being silly with his best friend.

“It’s a party!” Balthazar whoops, his chest suddenly against Cas’ back. Cas never heard their friends come in. He shakes his head disdainfully at his preoccupation. He needs to keep his head and heart clear.

* * *

Dean is not happy about the invasion into their little dance party. Not that it’s a party, per sé, and not that it would be just for him and Cas if it was. It’s not like they’re an actual thing or anything. “Get your own dance partner,” Dean says, aiming for a light tone as he pushes Bal back. He likes Bal, and he knows he’s helping them out tonight by starting this conflict that will lead them to the “dating” that will lead to Vaughn leaving (hopefully), but lately he’s finding Bal and his incessant flirtiness irksome. 

Cas and Dean finish making the snacks together and bring them to the living room, gathering around the coffee table. Vaughn is on his side of the room with his two closest cronies, Isaiah and Ethan, working on what look like posters for either a project or, more likely, for some protest or another. If Vaughn put half the effort into his schoolwork that he does in protesting this or that, he probably wouldn’t be in danger of failing, as Dean overheard the other day. It would be nice if he flunked out and had to leave the apartment. It would mean they could stop everything they’ve been doing.

Not that Dean wants to stop. He definitely doesn’t. He just wishes they could do it without all the pretense.

“I cannot wait for the Alliance party,” Bal says after they’ve destroyed the wings and worked out all the final details. 

“You can’t wait for the Alliance party to _end_ so you can take someone home,” Cas grins.

“I can be excited for both, darling,” he winks. Dean squirms.

“Who do you have your eye on this time?” Felix asks. “Catia? Blake? Sheree?”

“Actually…” he says, lengthening the word and then pausing for greater effect, “I’ve been thinking about someone a little closer to me. Someone that maybe I could have...on a regular basis.”

“A relationship? Surely you jest,” Calvin comments with a smirk.

Bal scoffs. “No, no, not a _romantic_ relationship...more of a friends-with-benefits sort of arrangement. He seems open to it these days, so...why not?”

Ever the gossip, Reagan leans forward, chin in his palm. “And who is this saucy young thing, hmm?” 

“Why, our dear Castiel, of course.”

The room falls dead silent. Or at least it does to Dean’s ears. All he can process is the red in his vision and the hot-sick clenching of his muscles. “Excuse me?” he snarls.

“What? If he can do it with you, he can do it with me,” Bal defends himself. “It’s good to have lots of friends. Keeps things interesting.”

“I don’t fucking think so.”

“Why not? We’ll use protection.”

“Because he’s _mine,_ that’s why not.”

“You don’t own him. Besides, you’re just having sex. It’s not like you’re dating.”

“Just because we aren’t dating doesn’t mean you can pick at him like a fucking smorgasbord!”

“I think it does.”

“It doesn’t!”

Bal raises his brows. “Dean, if you want him to be your boyfriend, just ask him and I’ll leave him alone.”

“I can’t, because he has some stupid rule about dating friends!” 

“It’s not a stupid rule, Dean,” Cas interjects.

Dean turns his fury on Cas. “That’s your objection to all this? And yeah, it damn well is a stupid rule.”

“It’s there for a reason.”

“A stupid reason, Cas. A goddamn stupid reason. Just ‘cause fuckin’ Jordan and fuckin’ Grayson screwed you over doesn’t mean I would.”

“Dean, I...I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

“And you think so fuckin’ little of me, of our friendship, that you think it would just be over if things didn’t work out between us?”

“It’s not that, it’s—I don’t know what would happen, but past experience has shown me that I—”

“That you were shit at picking which friends were boyfriend material. I know why you picked them, Cas. They were familiar and willing, and you wanted more than empty hookups. I get that. Right there with ya. But you know what? You picked the wrong guys. That’s all. There is no cosmic karma telling you not to have a relationship with a friend. That’s all you. So tell yourself something else. Easy.”

“It’s not that easy, Dean. The friendships I had with those guys don’t mean shit compared to what I have with you! I can’t lose that!”

“You’re assuming we wouldn’t work out! Why are you assuming we wouldn’t work out in the first place? And even if we didn’t, why are you assuming you would lose me? My friendship?”

“Because I couldn’t keep the others, why would I be able to keep you? Huh?”

Dean huffs in disgust. “Whatever, man. You wanna go fuck Bal, go fuck Bal.”

“I never said I wanted to go fuck Bal.”

“You didn’t say you didn’t.”

“The fuck, Dean? I think you know me well enough to know I don’t want that.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you knew me well enough to know that I would never, ever dream of hurting you if we dated, so maybe we don’t know each other that well.”

“Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

Cas stomps out of the room, slamming their bedroom door so hard the walls shake.

Dean bolts to Charlie and Jo’s, even though they’re at his place. It doesn’t matter. He just needs someplace to go, and he’s trembling too hard to drive. He lets himself in, then drops onto their couch and hides his face in his hands, rubbing at his throbbing forehead and fighting off the urge to scream. 

The door opens soon after, their friends shuffling in.

“Well, that was fun,” Bal declares, collapsing next to Dean on the couch.

“Get away from me,” Dean growls through his fingers, flinching away from him.

“My my, you’re so into your role. What do they call that? Method acting? I’m really feeling your performance.”

Dean looks up. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“I suppose I have. Actually, thanks to your and Cas’ acting skills, it went even better than I thought it would. That turn the two of you took was brilliant. Now, all you have to do is go back and patch things up with Cas in the same sort of dramatic fashion, then start the most epic romance since Rose and Jack in _Titanic_.”

Dean gapes at him. _Holy shit._ It was all fake! Cas storming out, their argument, Bal wanting to fuck Cas (though, given the opportunity, he doesn’t think Bal would object)—all fake. 

But Dean’s feelings weren’t fake. The argument...that wasn’t really fake, either, not on his side of things. He really is pissed that Cas won’t consider him as a boyfriend. He really is pissed that Cas thinks he’d hurt him. 

Does he really, though? How much of that was acting on Cas’ part? He does know, from their previous talks, that Cas blames himself for the breakups and the dissolution of their friendships, but they’ve never talked about the two of them dating. Dean’s never brought it up because Cas has always gone on about not “ruining” another friendship again, and he didn’t think Cas was interested in him, anyway. Or that’s what he’s always told himself. But could he be? He sure makes out with him like he is. That time when Vaughn was being a dick and Cas kissed him, comforted him...was there real emotion behind it? It’s all so confusing. 

“So, you should maybe spend the night here, then tomorrow, you guys can ‘make up’ and start dating,” Jo offers. 

“Wait, hold up, you guys are saying that was all fake? Has it all been fake?” Calvin asks. 

Dean, still shaken from the “fake” argument, lets Charlie and Bal explain the situation to the others. 

“Sure as hell seemed real to me,” Felix declares when they’re finished. “All that shit has been between you guys for the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well, Bal shouldn’t’ve brought it up.”

“If you recall, we needed to bring up the whole Cas-not-dating-friends thing because your roommate knows about it. I simply figured that after I brought up the bit about dating, and then the boyfriend thing, you would _get the hint_ and ask him to be your boyfriend. Then _he_ would make up some stupidly romantic thing about how he never thought he would get into a friends-to-boyfriends thing but you made him change his mind, and that would be that. But no. You had to insult his dearly-and-foolishly-held rule about dating friends, and he had to defend it instead of saying ‘I’ve reconsidered’ or some other rubbish, and then the two of you had an actual argument. Personally, I loved it. Like Felix said, you’ve had all that between you for forever. Time to be big boys and talk.”

“Easy for you guys to say,” Dean mutters. “You’re not in love with him.” He sighs, realizing what he just said. “Shit.”

“We all know, Dean,” Calvin says. He drops down to the couch and pulls Dean into a side hug. “You guys are scared. Him especially. I think it would kill him to lose you.”

“He wouldn’t lose me.” Dean clutches the wrinkles of his jeans tightly, staving off tears.

“We know that. And deep down, he knows it, but right now, the threat of losing your friendship is bigger than the payoff of having more between you. More to lose.”

Charlie gasps. “Dean...maybe this is the perfect opportunity to show him just how good it could be and how much he could lose by _not_ having you as a boyfriend. Maybe he needs to really feel it, you know? And you can show him with this whole dating thing you guys are gonna do.”

“The whole _fake_ dating thing we’re doing.”

“The line between real and fake is very thin between you two,” Reagan pipes up. 

“And, of course, we can encourage him, as well,” Bal adds.

“It’s like a double assault!” Charlie jumps and spins in place. “Oh, oh, you have to! This would be brilliant!”

“I don’t wanna manipulate him.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Felix joins in. “You’d be totally legit. Putting all of your real feelings out there. He’ll catch on eventually, probably, or we can nudge him if he doesn’t, like Bal said. And when he does catch on, he’ll be forced to figure his shit out, ‘cause at the very least, he’s still gonna have to fake date you to get rid of Vaughn, so he won’t be able to just run away and hide from you.”

“And I don’t think it’ll take much.” Charlie stops bouncing and leans toward Dean. “I think he’s already getting overwhelmed by all his real feelings for you. He wants you, but like Calvin said, he’s scared.”

With hope, Dean asks, “You really think he has feelings for me?”

Everyone in the room tsks at him. “Uh, yeah,” Jo answers for the group. “Think you can do it, though? You’re gonna be pretty vulnerable. He might not realize it at first, but you’re gonna be putting your whole heart out there and eventually he’s gonna know everything. No going back.”

Dean nods, ready to take on Trial...5? 6? 8? He’s not sure which things they did counted as trials, and he’s lost count anyway. Besides, this isn’t about Vaughn. “I know. But it’s time.”

“Well, this worked out beautifully!” Bal declares. “However, in terms of the fight you had and how you’re going to fix it, I think you’d be wise to pretend as if you believe Cas was putting on an act for the sake of the plan, and that you were, too. That way, he won’t back out prematurely because of all the feelings it brought up for him.”

“How do you know it brought—”

“Because if it brought up feelings for you, it brought up feelings for him. Did you see the way he left the room? And he wouldn't even let any of us into his room to talk.”

“Could’ve been part of the act.”

“I doubt it. And besides, I’ve seen him upset before. He can’t fake that little twitch in his eye.”

Dean swallows. Nods. If this works, he could have everything he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, poor guys!
> 
> So, there’s an addition to the plan—Dean’s plan, anyway. Think he’ll be able to be honest with his feelings, or will he get scared and back out? 
> 
> And speaking of plans, what did you think of Bal’s? Was it too much or just what these guys needed? Do you think he knew what would happen? 
> 
> Do you empathize (or at least sympathize) with Cas’ struggle and why he’s so scared? And do you think he was in the wrong in those relationships, as he does?
> 
> The song they dance to is “Hot in Here” by Nelly.


	10. Who's in the Mood for Romance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much good stuff, despite what the last chapter would have you believe. We could all use it, I think!

Cas has managed to avoid Dean for almost two days, and he’s trying to figure out how to avoid him even longer. He knows Dean was acting—Bal even called him the next day to comment on their “authenticity” and to encourage their “epic reunion”—but to Cas, that fight was too goddamn real. He’s not ready to talk it all out with Dean, to explain why he was so fucking emotional about the whole thing. He can’t face him, doesn’t want to see Dean’s look of pity, or disdain, or...whatever else he might see. He’s embarrassed, lonely, miserable. 

Fucking Vaughn is out there humming, the asshole.

Dean is at work right now, and is due home around 4:00. They’re supposed to go to the Alliance party tonight. Cas is in no mood to party. Maybe he can fake an illness, he thinks. _Yes. That’s it._ He’s been either fake-sleeping or out of the house anyway, so he figures Dean wouldn’t know, and Vaughn wouldn’t know (or care) either. He wraps up in his blankets and lies there until he’s sweating, adding coughs every so often for good measure. 

Dean comes home as expected, and Cas overhears him taking to Douchenozzle:

“How are you?” Vaughn, sounding like a condescending ass.

“Why do you care?” Dean, sounding like he’s done with Vaughn’s shit. 

“I’m just trying to be sensitive to your feelings.”

Silence.

“It was a big fight.”

“We’ll get through it. Not the first time we’ve fought. We’re strong.”

“I don’t know. Seems like the kind of thing people don’t recover from. Breaks up friendships. Makes living together very awkward.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Huh. Well, are you sure you want to? I mean, as you said yourself, he seems to think very little of you and your friendship.”

Cas rubs his temples. He hopes Dean doesn’t really believe that. He’s relieved when Dean says, “I was just pissed and saying shit. I know he doesn’t feel like that.”

There’s a pause, then, “Well, you weren’t very caring toward your ‘friend’ either, didn’t even stick around to see if he was okay, even after he told you he was afraid of losing you. You really pushed it. Maybe beyond the point where it can be fixed.”

_Oh, that manipulative motherfucker, grasping at anything he can. How dare he try to hurt Dean! Dean may be acting, but he’s still sensitive, and if he thinks he hurt me somehow...I can’t let him think that._

“I—I’m sure we’ll—”

Cas comes out of hiding. “Dean?” 

Dean turns away from Vaughn. “Cas?”

His eyes are dull, his body sagging and defeated. _Fuckin’ Vaughn, messing with his head._ “Honey, c’mere,” Cas urges him breathlessly, rushing across the space between them. He pulls Dean against his chest. Dean melts, his body heavy and fully trusting, and it feels so good to have him in his arms that Cas melts, too; he lets go of the tension and fear that has plagued him for the past two days. They stumble a bit, then giggle and readjust until they’re standing firm once again. Dean cards his fingers through his hair, and Cas sighs and rocks him slowly back and forth. _This is good. This is right, right here._ Cas tries not to panic at the thought. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean rasps over his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I never want to jeopardize what we have—”

“I know. You never could.”

Dean’s body becomes heavier, his embrace tighter. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know.”

Dean’s hand skims along his spine, the skip of his fingers off each vertebra both friendly and intimate. It makes him shiver. He feels Dean take a huge breath. 

“Cas, I just...I just wanna _try_. I know you’re scared of what could happen. Me too. But what if it’s good? What if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to both of us?”

Cas swallows against the tightness in his throat. This is the point they were supposed to get to the other night, before Cas overreacted and forgot it was all fake, and even though the conversation feels real, it’s not. They’re _acting_ like they want to try. Like they want this. Like it could be the best thing that’s ever happened to them. _But could it be?_ He presses his lips together. _Don’t go there and get your hopes up._ Cas pulls him even tighter against him. “Maybe it could be,” Cas murmurs. 

“I know it could be,” Dean insists, backing up just enough so they can look each other in the eyes. Dean cradles his face. “Give us a chance, Cas. Give us a chance to have a real shot at this. Please?”

“Okay,” Cas whispers. “Okay.”

“Okay? Boyfriends?”

With a tiny nod, Cas says, “Boyfriends.”

“Awesome.” Dean breaks into a slow, wondrous smile, his eyes sparkling. Cas feels his own heart beat for the first time in two days. It beats faster when Dean leans in to capture his mouth. Distantly, he thinks he hears a door slam, but his senses are too occupied with the warmth of Dean’s arms, the taste of his tongue, the sound of their breaths and smacks of their lips. Dean backs him up and Cas allows it, blindly, caring only that they’re together, wherever they’re going. Another door closes, then suddenly, Dean’s warmth, his taste, his breath are gone. 

“I think we convinced him,” Dean whispers. He smacks Cas on the arm and grins. “Wish you’d told me you were gonna ignore me for two days, but I gotta say, that two days apart led to a dramatic reunion, man. That was awesome. Nice job on that.” He jumps lightly onto his bed. “How hard should I bounce? I mean, it’s make-up sex, so we’re probably really going at it, huh?”

Cas’ thumping heart slows to a sluggish, listless chug. _Right._ They need to pretend to have sex now. Just like they were pretending to enjoy the kissing they were doing. Just like they’re pretending to be boyfriends. His brain knows all this. His heart is another matter. “Um, maybe we’re not. Maybe we’re...uh...calmer. I don’t know. I’ll let you decide.” He slides under his covers, no longer needing to feign illness.

A moment later, his bed dips. “You okay?”

“Don’t feel good.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s not your fault.” _It’s mine._

The covers lift, and Dean’s warm body presses against his back, wrapping him in a hug. “Hey. I know you were faking the fight the other night and all, but I also know that the friends-to-boyfriends thing is a sensitive topic, so I’m sorry if I made you hurt for real with the things I said. I know you have your reasons.”

Yes, he has his reasons. Of course, those reasons don’t seem to make much sense when he’s in Dean’s arms. _Except Dean was pretending. Don’t make this more than it is._ Not addressing Dean’s apology or his own hurt directly, Cas says instead, “I wasn’t faking you being more important to me than Jordan and Grayson, you know.”

“Oh, I know that. We got way more goin’ for us than you ever did with those guys.”

Cas huffs a chuckle. 

“Come on, you know we do. First of all, Jordan was way too immature for you.”

“He was fun, though.”

“Yeah, life of the party, everyone loved him. Remember why? ‘Cause he was high half the time and irresponsible all the time. He was class clown fun, man, but you and I know that shit doesn’t go very far. Can’t live your whole life that way, not taking anything seriously, thinking only of yourself.”

Cas sighs. “Yeah. When I look back, we didn’t have much in common. Nothing, really. Nothing that mattered.”

“Nope.”

“I don’t know why he didn’t want to stay friends, though. I mean, we did okay before we dated. Why did—”

“’Cause he saw the writing on the wall. You were way too good for his shit. Seriously. And he ended up being an asshole, anyway. Remember when he came by looking for that chick and he said he’s cheated on _everyone_ he’s ever been with? And thus began all your hookups, ’cause you were upset and you didn’t ‘believe in relationships anymore’ or some shit? Drama queen.”

Cas snickers. He got over that thinking eventually, but it stuck for a while and ultimately did more harm than good. “Yeah. But—”

“Dude, he was a player, a self-centered loser into decadence and self-destruction.”

“Yeah, but why did he just ditch me instead of trying to stay friends? Before I found out about the cheating, anyway.” 

“Because he knew you wouldn’t put up with that kinda shit in a friend once you found out how he really treated you and everyone else, ‘cause you have some fucking morals and you’re not a pushover. So he checked out and never looked back. You weren’t gonna be ‘fun’ anymore because you were a good person and he couldn’t deal with that.”

“Yeah. Just hurts to be pushed away, I guess. Left me wondering what the hell I did.”

“I know, Cas. But you didn’t do a damn thing. Don’t twist his bad behavior around to make it your fault somehow. That wasn’t on you, man.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am. And Grayson, hey, you _know_ we’re better than that.”

Grayson had been messy. He was gorgeous, smart, and funny, like Dean—in fact, Cas suspects that was part of his attraction to him. However, the differences between the men became obvious once he and Grayson began dating. Grayson started off as transparent and warm, also like Dean. He was openly affectionate and thoughtful, buying him coffee or leaving notes on his door, that sort of thing. Before long, though, he became cold, hard to read. He rejected affection in public, even in front of their friends, and his “kidding around” started to hurt. It was baffling to Cas. He had no idea what changed. They didn’t talk at all over Christmas break, and when they returned to school, Grayson avoided his messages. Soon after Grayson dumped him in a text without giving him a reason. It had taken a lot for Dean to talk him out of his funk after that breakup; the whole thing had driven him crazy because he didn’t know what he did to cause it. He still doesn’t. “Yeah, I know we’re better than that.”

“Damn right.”

Cas shifts his position and Dean shifts with him, staying close. “I just wish I knew what the hell I did to—”

“Dude, you did _nothing_ wrong. It was about him, not you, just like Jordan. Underneath it all, Grayson was just a jealous, controlling, narcissistic fucker, and when he saw you wouldn’t be controlled, when he saw you had your own life and friends you wouldn’t give up and you called him on his shit instead of kissing his ass, he freaked out. He couldn’t stay with you after that, friends or otherwise. Too much for his little ego.”

Cas inhales. Exhales. Closes his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. God, I suck at making friends. And choosing boyfriends.”

“You really don’t. I mean, most of your friends are awesome. Case in point right here.” Cas chuckles as Dean squeezes him. “It’s like I said before, you know? You just made a couple of not so great ones, and then you made ’em your boyfriends. You were in a different place then. You’re not the same guy you were. I mean, you’re so much more confident in who you are and what you’re about than you were when I first met you, and even when you were dating them.”

“Fuck, I’m a really good actor, then, ‘cause I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Well, fuck if I do, either.” Dean squeezes him again and it feels good, so good. “I’m not sayin’ you have all the answers. None of us do. Just sayin’ you know yourself better now, and you have really good friends around you.”

“I do. Literally.” Cas rests his hand on Dean’s forearm, smiling at the warmth in his chest and the tickle of hair against his fingers. Dean hums in amusement.

“I dunno, man. Maybe you had to date the bad ones to know what you wanted and what to avoid. People learn best from their mistakes, you know? Maybe you had to make mistakes to learn the right answer. To be able to pick the right option, you know?” 

He’d never thought of it that way. He sure knows who to avoid now--self-absorbed, irresponsible idiots and narcissistic assholes. 

People like his father, in other words. 

_Holy shit. Huh._

“Yeah. I guess I'm on option C now, right? If Jordan was A and Grayson was B.”

“Guess so. And hey, C’s worked so far.” Gently, Dean rolls him over. “Let’s skip the party, okay? They can handle things without us. I’ll make you soup and grilled cheese and educate you in _Legally Blonde._ ”

Cas smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

Dean gets up and shoots him finger guns. “You take a shower and get into comfy clothes and I’ll get the food going. Meet you in the living room in fifteen.”

“A shower? Do I stink?”

“A little.” Dean’s eyes light up with mirth. He winks and sticks out his tongue like that emoji they send each other sometimes before closing the door behind him. 

Cas stares at the space Dean filled. _Option C. Hmm._

* * *

As he leaves Cas to undress, Dean releases a shaky breath. _Fuck, that was intense._ His heart is still pounding when Cas walks out of the bedroom in his boxers, shooting him a quick, shy smile that’s so unlike him. 

It was strange, coming home and saying the stuff that’s in his heart. Strange and wonderful and scary as fuck. Baron von Douchenozzle rattled him some with his shit about their friendship, but he should’ve known better than to believe anything that comes out of his hole. The strength of their friendship was proven when Cas came out of their room and hugged him and called him honey. _He called me honey_ , Dean smiles to himself. He knows Cas doesn’t even realize it, and he’s pretty sure Cas wasn’t saying it as part of the act. It flowed too easily, was too full of emotion. Maybe their friends are on to something. Maybe Cas really does feel more. 

The hardest part was when he had to turn around and pretend that he was faking all those words, all those hopes. Yes, there was some safety in it—if Cas thought Dean was pretending, it meant they didn’t have to face everything just yet and Cas wouldn’t bolt—but it was hard, now that he’s going to be (almost) completely honest with his feelings. The weird tension that the sort-of lie gave him was relieved, though, by the very-real-to-both-of-them conversation about Cas’ former friends/boyfriends. It could’ve gone in a whole other direction, could’ve caused them to fight again...but instead, he thinks it might have opened up possibilities between them. If Cas could see that those relationships were crap because those guys were crap...and if he could see that what they have is the opposite of what he had with those guys...maybe, just maybe, Cas could see something more between them, especially if the feelings are there.

Dean sure as hell hopes so.

He texts the group chat to let them know they won’t be at the party, then pulls a couple of cans of good old Campbell’s Tomato out of their side of the cupboard (a cupboard suspiciously void of the mustard pretzels they bought recently, he notices, pretzels that Cas doesn’t even like—Vaughn is a fucking thief). Whisking the soup with some milk in a pan, Dean thinks about all of the romantic gestures they can make toward each other now that they’re “dating”. Flowers? Nah, Cas wouldn’t be into that. Would he? Do his laundry for him. He’d love that. Leave him notes everywhere with little hearts. Pack his lunch—though he already does that sometimes. Breakfast in bed. Candlelight dinners, obviously. A picnic...too friggin’ cold. But he could do it here at the apartment. A walk in the park, maybe. There’s a lot of free or cheap shit on campus, too—art displays, concerts, games, comedy shows. A comedy show and a beer or two. That would be good. The movies—not so much Cas’ thing, really, but they could hold hands. The planetarium—maybe make new memories? The aquarium. Oh! Ice skating! He sucks at it, but Cas is good so holding hands could be an option again…

And now he’s thinking about dates, dates they don’t have to do because they only need to fool one person. 

Although...if they’re seen around campus, that can only help, right?

Dean butters the bread for the grilled cheese sandwiches and assembles them. To the Muenster cheese, he adds cream cheese and some hot pepper jelly, which gives them a little zing—it’s something Cas’ mom taught him when he went home with Cas over spring break last year, and he’s made them this way for Cas ever since. 

Someone knocks on the door as Dean is flipping the second sandwich over. Vaughn comes out of his bedroom and Cas comes out of the bathroom at the same time, Cas only in a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Would you friggin’ get dressed, asshole?” Vaughn snipes at him as he swings the door open to let his friends in.

“I had no idea we were expecting anyone,” Cas replies, unruffled and totally ignoring their roommate’s request as he saunters toward Dean. He leans against the counter, watching him. “You’re always so good to me,” Cas murmurs, spying the pepper jelly.

Their eyes meet. Dean’s brain stops functioning.

He’s seen Cas fresh out of the shower before. Hell, he’s seen Cas _naked_ before (several times, in fact, including one memorable occasion when they were both drunk, naked, and gyrating wildly to electronica in their dorm room to see which of them could make their dick “dance” better—Cas had called them “helicockters” and Dean laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe). But he’s never seen Cas so sweetly uncertain, so warm and soft and quietly sincere. 

He doesn’t even think about it as he cups Cas’ jaw. “I’ll always be good to you,” he murmurs. Cas swallows and stares. Dean holds his gaze, not even daring to blink. They drift closer, as they always do when they’re together, though now there’s a wobbly tension there. Maybe Cas is acting, but Dean feels the difference of this moment, the unguarded hopefulness of it, and as he steps forward, he wonders if this will be the turning point, if this is when they—

“Hi!”

The greeting startles them both. They peer down at its source. “Hi?” they say together.

“I’m Jack!”

Jack seems to think nothing of interrupting two guys, one of them nearly naked, about to have a life-changing kiss in their kitchen. “Uh, yeah...hey, kid,” Dean finally stammers, because Jack actually _is_ a kid. He’s tall and gangly for his age, like his brother Sam was (and still is). Dean guesses he’s about seven or so. 

“Hello, Jack,” Cas says, adorably serious. “I’m Cas, and this is Dean.”

“Hi!”

“Jack, c’mere,” Ethan sighs, stepping into the kitchen. “Sorry. Jack’s my brother. He wanted to have a ‘sleepover at college’,” he explains. Dean thinks it’s kind of cute that he let his little brother come hang out with him. 

“Are those grilled cheese sandwiches?” the boy asks, peering around Dean in interest.

“Yes,” Cas answers. “Dean made them for us, but he can make one for you, too, if you want.”

“If it’s okay with your brother,” Dean adds. He doesn’t know if the kid is allergic to dairy or has to save his appetite for his own dinner later or something.

“Uh, well, if you don’t mind, it’s okay with me,” Ethan stammers. 

“No, Dean doesn’t mind.”

Dean shoots Cas a playful scowl. “We’re dating for an hour and you’re already making decisions for me?”

“Yes, dear, I am,” Cas shoots back. “Besides, I know you don’t mind.”

“How do you know?”

Cas’ teasing tone softens to fondness. “Because I know you.”

At this, Dean ducks his head, smiling. He knows his face is flushing red even though he wishes it wouldn’t. He grabs the pan and notices in the excitement of their almost-kiss that he burned the second sandwich. “Gotta make more anyway, guess I can make one for the kid, too,” he grumbles without heat. 

Cas catches his eyes and smiles knowingly before heading to their bedroom. Dean’s eyes follow him briefly. He channels his lovesick sigh into one of purpose. “Okay, Jack, let’s make some food.”

Three sandwiches and two mugs of soup later, Dean is sitting with Cas on their loveseat. They’re each resting their backs on the arms, facing each other, their calves slotted together. It’s not the first time they’ve sat this way—it’s a frequent study position, actually—but there’s an extra layer to it now, one that Dean knows they’re acting out even if Dean isn’t really acting. A few feet away, Vaughn and his crew are doing whatever Vaughn and his crew do. It bores Jack, obviously, because they have a visitor to their side of the living room before they’ve even finished their sandwiches.

“Do you guys have games?” he asks, seeing full well that they have a video game system. 

“Yeah, but nothin’ for your age, man,” Dean says. “Sorry.”

“What’s this?” Jack asks around a mouthful of grilled cheese (with no pepper jelly). Dean can’t see what he’s rifling through on the floor until it’s too late. He pulls out one of Cas’ models from his peer education work.

“Dude, no!” Dean admonishes him frantically as Cas calmly answers, “It’s a model of a vulva and vagina.”

Ethan hurries over as Jack asks, “Why?”

“Because I teach people about their bodies.”

“Oh.” 

“I’m so sorry, guys,” Ethan says to Cas and Dean, then turns to his brother. “Jack, c’mon, buddy, that’s not yours. Put it down.” 

Jack ignores him as he pulls out another model and directs his question to Cas. “And what’s this?”

“A penis. It’s a different part of the body.” 

“Oh, I have one of those! This one’s big.”

Dean wants to crawl into the ground, and Ethan looks the same way. Vaughn and Isaiah look both disgusted and strangely smug. Only Cas is unflustered. 

“Yes. Penises can be many sizes. Let me see the bag for a minute, Jack.”

Jack dutifully brings it over. 

“So this is stuff that you have to learn about with your family, but I do have something in here for you.” 

Dean, for a hot second, thinks Cas is going to open an unlubed condom and blow it up like a balloon. It’s something they’d probably do together. Scratch that—it’s something they _have_ done together. Instead, he pulls out a different sort of square. “Ask your brother if you can have this.”

“Can I, Ethan?” Jack asks hopefully. It’s a sticker with a rainbow heart and the name of their university. 

“Sure, bud,” Ethan answers, taking the sticker pinched between Cas’ fingers and peeling it off, then sticking it onto his shirt with an affectionate pat. “There you go. What do you say to Cas?”

“Thank you, Cas!”

“You’re welcome, Jack.”

Ethan smiles. Jack beams. Dean is kind of impressed with this Ethan dude. His friends don’t seem to be.

Cas takes a pen and a notebook from the bag, then puts it aside. “You wanna play hangman, Jack?” 

“Yeah!”

“You don’t have to—” Ethan starts, but Cas cuts him off.

“It’s fine. We like kids, he’s bored, and we’re just hanging out.”

“Thought you were going out to your _gay thing_ tonight,” Vaughn sneers. Dean still hasn’t gotten used to Vaughn’s derision (not that he should), and it rubs at him.

“I didn’t realize you paid attention to us and our plans,” Cas says, calm as can be, “but no. We’re going to stay home and hang out together.”

Vaughn mutters something to himself and Dean tries not to snicker as Cas scores another point against Douchenozzle. Unperturbed, Cas swats Dean’s legs apart, then settles between them, his back against Dean’s chest. “You can sit where I was sitting,” he gestures to Jack. 

“Don’t catch anything,” Vaughn mutters. Isaiah snickers. Ethan gives his friend a look and quietly tells him to stop. 

Dean raises his brows with interest, watching the interaction until Cas turns his face up toward his and smiles. “Okay, what word do we want to give Jack first?”

They trade the notebook back and forth for a while, taking it easy on Jack with their words until he pulls out “nougat” for one of his, and then it’s on. It’s not how Dean pictured their first fake dating night—he’d figured there’d be way more making out in front of Vaughn and maybe some more pretend sex that nonetheless gets his dick up—but this is really, really nice. Cas is in his arms, warm and snuggly and laughing at this kid across from them. The kid is cute and smart, like he pictures any kid of Cas’ would be. He can’t help but think of the two of them as dads, playing games and sneaking kisses that gross their kids out. They’re too young now, but he knows he wants it someday, and picturing it with Cas feels right. He kisses Cas’ temple, forgetting for a moment that he shouldn’t and then remembering that he should, for their act. Cas turns his baby blues on him and bumps their noses together. It’s so damn sweet and romantic that his bones ache with longing.

“Are you guys boyfriends?”

They turn back to their inquisitive guest. “Yup,” Dean answers without hesitation—for the act, sure, but really, it’s because he doesn’t want another kid to think that being with someone of the same gender is wrong.

“Oh. Can we watch TV?”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, man.”

“This calls for popcorn,” Cas declares, standing.

Jack finds a cartoon on Hulu. Dean tosses a throw blanket to the kid, who wraps himself up in it. Cas returns with two bowls of popcorn. He hands one to Jack, then puts the other on the table and drags the table closer. Cas leaves again, returns with drinks that he hands to Dean and Jack, then throws a leg over the back of the loveseat and lands on Dean, resuming his cozy spot but turning toward the TV. 

Dean circles him with his arms and legs, holding him close. It may not be making out or a candlelit dinner, but it’s damn perfect anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so lots going on in this one! What did you think about the deal with Cas' exes? How are we feeling now that the guys are "dating" finally? Anything make you laugh in this one? I hope it was a pleasant surprise after last chapter's conflict. 
> 
> For the grilled cheese that Dean makes Cas (he omits the ham in this one): [Pepper Jelly Grilled Cheese](https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/pepper-jelly-grilled-cheese-2788844)
> 
> Also, on a completely different topic, I'll have a one-shot fic coming out to you soon, featuring Dragon Cas!


	11. Too-Supportive Families

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some much-needed sweetness for our boys (even though they’re apart) and all of us (even though we’re apart). Wishing all of you and yours good health and stability as we move through this time that is challenging for all of us. ❤️

They don’t have much time to “date” before their winter break, so they don’t get to talk much about what their fake dating will entail. Cas thinks about it, though. A lot.

And of course, his favorite siblings chime in.

“Cook together!”

“We already do that.”

“Cuddle!”

“We do that, too.”

“Cute names!”

“We sort of have that figured out.” They’d decided to keep it simple: sweetheart, honey, and babe. They’d had a great time grossing out Vaughn by sitting on the loveseat and talking about the most ridiculous names they could think of (“Now that we’re dating, can I call you stud muffin?” “Only if I can call you my little apple turnover...emphasis on _turn over_ ”), but they couldn’t realistically see themselves calling each other such things.

Hannah looks up ideas online. “Play video games! Watch sports! Listen to music! Break the law!”

“Done all those. We need something that shows, in no uncertain terms, that we’re _dating_.”

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Gabe says. “How about ‘accept that you’ve actually been dating most of your friendship’?”

“We have not.”

“Listen, all that you guys had missing was the physical stuff—”

“You don’t need to be physically intimate to be dating.”

“Oh? You can be dating without the physical stuff? Do tell,” Gabe snarks, tucking his fist under his chin and fluttering his lashes.

“Fuck off.”

“Listen, even without the making out, you guys are so dopey around each other that most people get it.”

“Pfft. Okay.”

“I’m serious. Even Mom and Pup think you’ve been dating secretly.”

Cas scans his brother’s face, looking for the telltale tick of his lips that says he’s lying. There’s nothing. “Really?”

“Yeah, and they’re psyched about it. Watch.”

Before Cas has time to wonder what Gabe is going to do, he shouts toward the kitchen, “Mom! Cas just confirmed it!”

She rushes into the family room, hands still dusty with flour. “You _are_ dating Dean! I knew it! How long? Pup and I thought at least since last spring or summer.”

“How?” Cas asks, incredulous.

“It’s not hard to see, honey. So, how long?”

Now he’s cornered, and Gabe knows it. _Fucking Gabe._ “Just recently, actually,” he answers reluctantly.

“Oh. Huh, that’s surprising. About time, then!” she trills. 

Gabe looks victorious. Cas thinks there’s not enough booze in the eggnog to deal with this. 

After dinner, he’s with his mother, Pup, Gabe, and Hannah around the game table in the family room, playing a cutthroat round of Monopoly while Gabe butchers a holiday classic by changing the words to “it’s the most horrible smell from my rear” (with accompanying graphic lyrics). Cas is about to take his turn when his phone rings on the table. He flips it over to see the screen and smiles before he answers. “Hey.”

“Congrats, lovebirds!” Gabe screams from across the table as his mother screeches “Oh, Dean!” She snatches Cas’ phone from his hand. “Hello! I’m calling you right back on video so I can congratulate you in person!” 

Cas is mortified. And mystified. How did they know who it was?

She doesn’t seem to notice his distress as she hangs up and finds Dean’s contact in Cas’ favorites (number one, of course). Cas doesn’t bother trying to stop her. She’s an unstoppable force once she’s made a decision. “Hello! Congratulations! It’s about time!”

Dean’s smiling face fills the screen, and Cas’ belly flips. “Hello and thank you,” he grins. “Hey, Cas,” he adds, the grin softening to something private and exclusive to them. His heart joins his belly in one epic gymnastics routine.

His mother gushes for a few minutes about how “perfect” they are and how happy she is that they’re finally together. Dean nods and smiles, not disagreeing in the least. It would be so nice if it were true. Except, of course, it isn’t, and can’t be. Shouldn’t be. Probably.

“I’m taking my phone now,” Cas declares when his mother takes a breath. He swears she wins half her cases because she talks until they cry uncle. He walks into his old room and closes the door. “Sorry. Hey.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean smiles. “So, uh, guess they think we’re dating?”

“They do. Sorry. I wasn’t going to—”

“It’s okay. My family does, too. I was just calling to warn ya.”

“Oh. Well, I guess it works, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah. How’d it happen?”

“Mine assumed we were and fuckin’ Gabe confirmed it for them. Or forced me to, really.”

“Ah. Yeah, my mom found your shirt in my laundry and got all excited, and then Jo opened her damn mouth.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Dean pauses, a faraway look overtaking his face for a moment before he refocuses on Cas. “They’re all so happy about it.”

Cas’ eyes fall to his lap. “Yeah. Mine too.”

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Miss you, homie.”

They’ve only been apart a few days, and while it’s been getting harder every time they part for visits home, this one is the worst so far. Cas swallows the lump rising in his throat. “Miss you, too.” He sighs. “I should get back to playing Monopoly before they steal my money. Hopefully Gabe has stopped singing.”

“Singing?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Dean snorts. “Well, go back and build those hotels, man, I know how ruthless you can be. I’m gonna go kick Sam’s ass at _Red Dead Redemption_.”

They laugh softly together, Cas thinking of the many times he’s beaten Dean at board games and the many times he’s been beaten by Dean at video games. And though they’re attempting to hang up, neither of them seems to want to.

“Well,” Cas says at the same time that Dean says, “I guess I oughta…” They laugh again. The moment feels too precious, too warm. Cas finds himself wishing Dean would call him buddy, just to make him stop feeling this way.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Dean’s tone is teasing, but the delivery is fond. Longing grips his heart. _Fuck_.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he murmurs, forcing playfulness into his voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“‘Kay. Night.”

“Night.”

* * *

After they finally hang up, Dean does indeed kick his brother’s ass at _Red Dead Redemption,_ putting his melancholy aside for a while. Later, when the house is dark and the revelers have long since hit the hay in anticipation of tomorrow’s celebration, Dean sits with a beer and contemplates. He misses Cas enormously. The weight of his feelings for him keeps him pinned to the couch, staring at the mantel with the stockings on it. He imagines a time when Cas’ stocking is up there, right next to Dean’s, and he gets his own favorite candies and trinkets from Mom. He thinks about having a house together someday, maybe with a mantel of their own, and how he would play Santa and fill Cas’ stocking and the space under the tree with chocolate-covered cherries (the ones with the clear liquid center), historical fiction, comfy socks and sweatshirts, maybe a fancy tie for work or gift cards for their home improvement projects, maybe some silky boxers he can slide slowly off him…

 _Gettin’ a little ahead of yourself, there, Dean._ He sighs. How he wishes Cas was his. 

“What’s up?” 

Dean glances up to see Sam standing there looking at him, cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. He’s even in red pajamas. He’ll make a good Santa for his own family someday, Dean thinks. “Nothin’.”

“Sure.”

“Just thinkin’ about Cas.”

A corner of Sam’s mouth turns up. “You must miss him, huh? Sucks you guys couldn’t be together at Christmas.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe next year. I mean, you guys will have to figure out how to split the holidays eventually.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean stammers. “Well, you know, we’re just dating right now. No guarantee there will be a next year in our relationship, you know?”

Sam snorts. “Sure there won’t.”

Dean shifts awkwardly. He hates lying to his brother. He can’t do it. “Listen, Sam...we’re just pretending to date to try to get rid of our roommate. Don’t tell Mom, okay?”

“Yeah, I know. Jo told me.”

“Oh. So why—”

“Your plan is totally stupid, though.”

“We didn’t have a lot of options, man—”

“I mean, you didn’t think about the breakup.”

“Br-breakup?”

“Yeah.”

“What—”

“What’re you gonna do when your roommate’s gone? Keep fake dating?”

“Uh…” Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about it. 

“I mean, first of all, you guys breaking up is gonna be way more unbelievable to everyone who knows you than you guys dating.”

“Well—”

“And secondly, it’s gonna hurt. If you guys just drop this thing between you when it’s over, it’s gonna be like you’re breaking up for real. Can you handle that?”

“It’ll be fine. We’re just friends, Sammy.”

“You’re not just friends, Dean. You love him.” He shoots Dean a challenging look, daring him to argue. Dean can’t, of course. When he doesn’t, Sam softens and says, “If you guys don’t figure this out, it’s gonna be hard on you.”

Dean licks his lips, then tips his bottle up and gulps the rest of his beer down. “I dunno,” he admits. “I dunno. All I know is that I’m gonna enjoy what we have for now, and I’m gonna be there for him, however he wants our relationship. Not gonna ditch him because I’m in love with him and he doesn't feel the same. I’ll handle my feelings.”

Sam scoffs. “Dude, he feels the same. I haven’t seen you guys together a lot, but from the times he’s visited and the times I’ve come to see you guys, I don’t have a doubt.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah. It’s like, I keep trying to tell myself that he doesn’t feel the same, ‘cause it’s easier than believing he does and won’t do anything about it, you know? But everyone I talk to says he does. I’ve just been too much of a chicken shit to ask him myself.”

Sam nods. They sit quietly until he asks, “You gonna ask? Or at least tell him how you feel?”

He shakes his head. “Dunno. He still seems nervous about dating friends, and I’m scared of making him run.”

“Well, for the record, I think you should. I think—”

They’re interrupted by Dean’s phone. He picks it up and smiles as he sees Cas’ name.

_Cas 12:02am: I dominated. [1 photo]_

The picture is of a Monopoly board littered with red buildings and a wad of cash in Cas’ hand. He’s posed as if he’s laughing evilly.

“Dork,” Dean grins. He looks at Sam. “It’s Cas.”

“Yeah, I knew that by the dumbass smile on your face.”

He sneers at his brother, then replies:

_Dean 12:03am: I heard you like to dominate_

_Cas 12:03am: Oh, I do_

Dean cackles as his boxers grow tighter. 

_Cas 12:03am: I wish you were here._

The phone just got a lot heavier in his hand, even as his heart threatens to float away. 

_Dean 12:04am: You okay?_

There’s a pause. Several times he sees the dots that tell him Cas is typing, but then they disappear. Eventually, he gets:

_Cas 12:07am: Yeah. Sorry. That was needy. It’s just really quiet here right now. Hard to believe with Gabe around, I know, but…guess I’m just used to sharing a room with you._

_Dean 12:07am: I get it._

Boy, does he get it. 

_Dean 12:07am: And I wish I were with you, too_

Dean sighs, staring at his phone. He considers the thought he had just before they left, when they were stripping their beds as they talked about their plans for the break. He wonders if it’s a good time to talk about it now, when they’re both a little mopey and missing each other. Before he loses his nerve, he types:

_Dean 12:08am: Hey so speaking of sharing a room I was thinking that maybe we should push our beds together to be more convincing because if we’re dating then we would probably wanna sleep together like actually sleep together and it looks weird if we’re not what do you think_

He holds his breath as he waits for a response. Thankfully for his lungs, it doesn’t take long.

_Cas 12:08am: Yes_

As Dean exhales with relief, Cas adds:

_Cas 12:08am: I’m looking forward to sleeping with you_

Dean nearly chokes on his own breath. He’d love to respond with _All you had to do was ask_ or _Anytime, babe_ or _Please_ but instead responds with:

_Dean 12:09am: Ass_

He can practically hear Cas laughing from five hours away.

_Cas 12:10am: Are you a cuddler?_

_Dean 12:10am: Dean Winchseter doesn’t cuddle_

_Cas 12:11am: Dean Winchester can’t spell his own name, which equals flustered, which confirms: yup, you’re a cuddler_

Dean looks back at his message. He spelled his own last name wrong. _Damn it._

_Cas 12:11am: Are you a spooner? Big spoon or little? Or are you a face-to-face cuddler? Will you rest your head on my chest?_

_Fuck, that image._ Dean shakes it away. He’s joking. But it could happen. Maybe.

_Dean 12:12am: I’m not a cuddler!_

_Cas 12:12am: Or are we going to be those really clingy cuddlers that are tied up from head to toe?_

_Cas 12:12am: Ooh, tied up_

_Dean 12:13am: Fuck you_

_Cas 12:13am: I’ll run my fingers through your hair, give you a nice scalp massage…_

_Dean 12:13am: No_

_Cas 12:13am: It’ll be fun, cuddle bear_

_Dean 12:14am: I hate you_

_Cas 12:14am: I hate you too_

“I told you he feels the same,” Sam says, smug as can be. Dean looks over. He sort of forgot about him for a minute. He shrugs. Sam slaps him on the shoulder. “I’m goin’ to bed. Tell him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe.” As Sam stands, Dean stares at the text exchange. “I don’t wanna lose this,” he admits quietly, gripping the phone in his hand. 

“I don’t think you will. You guys are pretty tight. Even if he doesn’t feel like you do, I think you’ll be okay. And if he does? I mean, you guys could have it really good.”

 _I know you’re scared of what could happen. Me too. But what if it’s good? What if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to both of us?_ He told Cas that after those two painful days, when they were pretending to make the decision to date. Only Dean wasn’t pretending his feelings and thoughts on the matter. Not at all. “We could,” he agrees.

“See you at breakfast,” Sam says, leaving Dean in silence once again. His phone buzzes; he looks down to read the text:

_Cas 12:19am: Guess I can officially say Merry Christmas now. See you in a few weeks._

Dean stares at the text for a moment, considering. 

_Dean 12:22am: Merry Christmas, Cas. Again. :P You wanna go back early? Just to hang out?_

_Cas 12:23am: Yeah, that’d be awesome. Just have to check in with my parents to make sure they don’t have any plans for me._

_Dean 12:24am: Awesome. I’ll do the same with Mom, and I’ll see if Jo minds coming back early. I think Charlie’s going back early to work, so she’ll probably be okay with it. See you soon! Call you tomorrow. Well, later today. Okay. Going to bed now. Night._

_Cas 12:25am: Night, Dean. See you sooner. :)_

Grinning, Dean glances at the row of stockings again. Maybe next year there will be one with Cas’ name on it, tucked right next to Dean’s, and then they’ll tuck themselves in bed together, Cas holding him close against his chest—because yeah, he does like to cuddle, and he’s the little spoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Time alone at the apartment! (Maybe?) 
> 
> Thanks to SneakyDaffodil for suggesting “stud muffin” and “my little (insert dessert or sweet)” back in their chapter 2 comments! XD


	12. Stupid (Awesome) Date Clichés

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone doing? I hope you and your loved ones are well.
> 
> Here, have a little romance to start your weekend.
> 
> *Note: there is a reference to the bubonic plague, which might make some people a little squeamish because of our current pandemic. My apologies. I wrote this quite a bit back.

Dean has never been so excited to go back to school. They have their own place and they’re going to be alone, finally. Vaughn is going to be on vacation, some tropical escape to somewhere and blah, blah, blah. 

He drops off Jo, then trudges up the stairs to their apartment. When he opens the door, arms full of clean laundry, his backpack, and groceries to fill their bare pantry and fridge from the break, the air is stale. Dean’s nose twitches. He decides a cleaning is in order after he puts the groceries away. Cas is due home in a few hours, and he wants to get their time together off to a good start. 

After putting his laundry away, he sets about dusting, vacuuming, and scrubbing, listening to Greta Van Fleet on Spotify to inject a little fun into the drudgery. Chores are always a lot more fun with Cas, but he doesn’t want him to have to come back to a mess after a long drive. 

When the apartment is presentable (at least on their side), Dean flops onto his bed to rest before hopping into the shower. It’s then that he remembers his conversation with Cas about the beds. Springing up, he pushes their furniture around until their beds are one bed, with their nightstands and lamps on either side. It’s domestic as hell, and his heart breaks just a little. Thinking about having this with Cas is so different than when he’s thought of this with other people. With others, it was just a little fantasy born of his wish for something more than a quick fuck. With Cas, it’s not about wanting the fantasy. It’s about wanting _him_. With a wistful sigh, he pushes their pillows a little closer before leaving the bedroom.

Dean jumps into the shower and lets the water hammer at his tense muscles. Cas won’t be home for another couple of hours, so he has alone time that he hasn’t had in ages. And with that alone time...he soaps up, then takes himself in hand. Being a visual guy, getting off is always better with some sort of picture in his mind, so he lets his mind drift to some of the people he’s seen on campus...to that hot woman in his Lit class...to that equally hot guy in line at the coffee shop...to that hot woman _and_ that hot guy...to Cas walking in and shoving them out of the way, making them stand aside as he takes Dean hard from behind, pounding his ass...and then there’s no one but them, in a big, sunlit room with a canopy bed, Cas kissing and nibbling his neck, his ear, his face, so, so gently, whispering _Dean I want you so bad you’re mine I'm yours I love you_ and Dean comes hard, shouting broken words and noises mindlessly.

The orgasm and the cooling water make him shiver. He turns off the water and dries himself, then squeegees the shower walls down (it’s Cas’ thing, the nerd, but he did just clean in here and he’ll be damned if he ruins his own cleaning job). He’s about to leave the bathroom, talking to himself about what he’s going to make for dinner, when he hears movement outside the door. 

“Shiiiiit,” he hisses under his breath. Cas is home early. Did he hear him? How fucking embarrassing is that? And oh…did he yell Cas’ name in that whole mess? He can’t remember. Shit, how would he explain that? It can’t be for the act; Vaughn isn’t here. Dread fills his gut. He’s ruined it. He’s ruined everything. Unless...he can play it off as a joke. The walls are paper-thin; maybe he can say he heard Cas moving around and called his name like that to fuck with him. Yeah. Might work. A semblance of a plan in place, just in case, he cracks open the bathroom door and comes face-to-face with...fuckin’ _Vaughn_.

“You’re here,” Dean says dumbly.

“It’s my apartment,” Vaughn sneers. 

“Weren’t you going away on vacation?”

“What’re you doing here?” he asks, not addressing Dean’s question.

“Decided to come back early.”

“Yeah. I heard.”

For a moment, Dean feels the shame of being caught, specifically the shame of being caught calling a guy’s name, if that’s what he did. But for once, he pushes it aside. “Didn’t expect anyone to be here,” he shrugs, trying to give off a sorry-not-sorry vibe. “S’what happens when you don’t call ahead,” he adds, trying to joke with the guy. Vaughn, as always, isn’t impressed.

“The landlords will be hearing about this.”

Dean frowns. That doesn’t make sense. “What?”

“We agreed to no strangers in the house. Just get your _whoever_ out of here.”

So he didn’t call Cas’ name, obviously. What Vaughn’s accusing him of, though, is worse, and it makes Dean’s jaw drop. “What? I was by myself! Look!” Dean pushes the door open wide and slides the shower curtain back. “Cas and I are dating. Exclusively. We’re in a committed relationship.”

Vaughn peeks into the bathroom, then huffs and folds his arms. “Like a committed relationship means anything to you people.”

The tone of the conversation feels strange, like he misstepped and walked into Bizarro World. “What?”

His roommate shakes his head. “Whatever, forget it. You need to clear out of here later. I’m having people over.”

Dean wants to give in, wants to shrink back, but he’s pissed off at Vaughn’s dismissiveness, at his presumptuousness, and at the fact that he assumed Dean would _cheat_ on Cas. _Fucker_. He channels his inner Cas for strength, calm, and a little put-on innocence.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m making dinner for Cas, and he’s already expecting it. He’ll be home in a couple of hours. I’m sure we can all make room for each other.” He feints toward his bedroom, then turns to face his roommate again. “Oh, do we know these people you’re having over? And did you get the landlords’ permission to have them here? I mean, I’m sure you’re not having a party or anything, since we’re not allowed, but just wanted to double-check those details, make sure we’re all set.”

Vaughn’s nostrils flare. He turns on his heel, picks up his bags, and drags them to his room. Dean smiles to himself. He says a quick hello to Vaughn’s ferret, whose cage he left on their side of the living room, then moves it to his side. “Got him,” he mouths to the little creature. It twitches its nose.

Dean wanders into his room to dress. He’s about to reach for jeans and a t-shirt when an idea pops into his mind. “Yes,” he whispers to himself, smiling with glee. He dresses in a ratty shirt and sweatpants to cook in and lays out a much nicer outfit on his— _their_ —bed for later. 

When later comes, Dean changes into dress pants, a button-down shirt, and a tie, an outfit his mother gave him for Christmas so he would have something professional to wear when he needed it (“and now that you and Cas are dating, you can take him someplace nice!” she added, pushing money into his hand). He works some pomade in his hair and gives himself an assessing look. Satisfied, he ambles to the kitchen, where he finds the two emergency candles they bought when they first moved in. They didn’t buy anything to put them in, though, so he fills a couple of shot glasses with rice and nestles them inside, hoping they won’t tip over. He sets their two-person table with plates and wine glasses. They don’t really like wine, but Jo promised that the wine and glasses she delivered after he texted her to _please please please do me a solid and pick up heavy cream because I’m making Cas a romantic dinner and I need it_ would make them believers. That done, he plates the roasted chicken and vegetables and lights the candles. He’s just about to call Cas to see if he’s close when the door opens to...well, not to Cas.

“Hey,” a guy in a hoodie says. It’s the pizza delivery guy, Chuck. He’s a frequent visitor. Behind him, Cas emerges. He’s talking, apparently to Chuck.

“Lemme just grab some cash and I’ll—Dean?”

Dean licks his lips and smiles. “Heya, sweetheart.”

* * *

Cas is...confused. He assumed the pizza was for them. But there are candles on their table, and wine, and delicious-looking food, and next to them is...well, a delicious-looking Dean. He’s all decked out in his finest (A tie? He didn’t even know Dean owned one!), and honestly, the sight of him is making him much hungrier than the food ever could. “Hi,” he smiles tentatively. “Is this—”

Commotion behind him distracts him briefly; it’s Isaiah, two other guys he thinks are named Nathan and Zach, and three women he doesn’t know at all. At the same time, Vaughn traipses out of his room, money in hand. _Why is he here? He’s supposed to be on vacation! Probably lied. Motherfucker, we can’t get_ **_rid_ ** _of this guy_. Cas shakes his head and ignores them all to approach Dean. “Is this for me?”

“Well, yeah,” he grins. “Come on, I’ll help you bring your stuff in, then we can eat.” A subtle scent of cotton and leather drags Cas by his nose to follow his boyf—roommate. Best friend.

“Is all of this really for me?” Cas asks again when they’ve brought everything inside.

“Yeah, of course. I wanted to surprise you.”

“It’s—”

“Aww! Why don’t you do that for me?” a female voice questions somewhere behind him, and it hits him: This isn’t for him. It’s for the ruse. He has to remember that, even if Dean looks so, so fucking sincere and hopeful. 

“It’s awesome, cuddle bear,” Cas says, reminding his stupid heart that he needs to keep cool about all of this. 

“Ass,” Dean mutters, but he smiles so brightly and kisses him so deeply that Cas struggles to remember why they haven’t tried, why they _can’t_ try. Shouldn’t try. Maybe. When they part, they’re both out of breath, and Dean is still smiling. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you,” Cas breathes. 

“We should eat before it gets cold, huh?”

Cas nods. Dean pecks his lips again, then leads him to the kitchen by the hand. He pulls out his chair for him, then uncorks a bottle he doesn’t recognize. 

“Wine?”

“Yeah. Asked Jo to pick up something I needed for dessert, and she brought this, too, along with the glasses. She swears it’s good.” 

Dean pours the wine, then sits across from him. In the candlelight, Dean’s face is warm and soft. Or maybe that’s how he always looks. He smiles, his teeth shiny in the dim light. “To us.”

“To us.” Cas clinks his glass against Dean’s. “So, are we supposed to smell this, swish it in our mouths, what?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Chug it is.” 

They laugh and sip the slightly fizzy liquid. “Not bad, for wine,” Dean comments. 

“Moscato d’Asti,” Cas reads from the bottle. “It’s pretty good. I’d drink it again.”

“Look at us, Cas. We’re fancy as fuck.”

“Fuckin’ right we are.”

They smirk at each other. When Dean’s smirk fades to a small, fond smile, Cas turns his attention to his plate. He could tell himself his heated face is due to the wine, but he’d be lying. 

The food is even better than the wine, and he makes sure to tell Dean so, not only because his effort deserves to be recognized, but because he wants to put the same sort of flush on Dean’s cheeks. It works, but it also makes him so much more attractive that Cas curses himself for it. 

Dessert is a chocolate mousse that Dean made from scratch. It’s sinful, as is the way Dean is eating it, his lips molding to the spoon and lingering. He’s doing it on purpose, of course, and he won’t take his eyes off him, so Cas determinedly keeps his eyes pinned to Dean, too. It’s a game they’ve played from time to time, staring at each other and doing whatever they can to see which of them can make the other break. It usually devolves to obscene gestures or comments. Why those work on two people who are supposed to be just friends is something he’s never stopped to ponder before. Nonetheless, he wants to win, so he imitates Dean until his mousse is gone, then circles the inside of the bowl with his finger to get what the spoon missed and sticks it in his mouth, making damn sure to look like he’s sucking dick. Dean, usually making his own exaggerated gestures, noises, or comments by now, only stares and follows his movements with...interest. His spoon dangles from his bottom lip, held loosely with his fingers. 

All at once, Cas looks away, breaking their game. It’s different, this game, and he doesn’t recognize it. There’s none of the cheekiness of their friendly one-upmanship or the subtle _wink wink nudge nudge_ of their plan to push their roommate out. It’s...he doesn’t dare think it.

When he looks up at Dean again, his friend seems nervous. “Dessert okay?” he asks, and though Cas has no idea why he’s feeling nervous, he knows it isn’t about the dessert.

“Dessert was great,” he smiles, swiping his finger around the bowl one more time and licking off the residue, showing him his clean finger when he’s done.

“Heh, uh, good. So, I know you had a long ride back. Wanna chill on the couch, listen to a podcast? I found one about the history of the bubonic plague I thought we could both get into.” He pauses, licking his lips. “I mean, that’s probably stupid, huh? It’s just, I know you like history, and I’m into biology stuff, and so, you know, I thought it would be good for both of us, but, shit, this is supposed to be a romantic date and here I am bringing up the plague, fuck, I—”

Cas laughs loudly, startling the party in the living room if their sudden silence is any indication. “Actually, I think it’s perfect for us.” 

Dean grins, his worry seemingly assuaged. “Awesome.”

They move to their side of the living room to sit on their loveseat. Cas hears murmurs behind them, but all he can make out is Vaughn muttering something about “sickening” and “fake.” He ignores him in favor of focusing on Dean, who didn’t seem to hear anything. Dean slips off his shoes, then tucks his feet under him as he sits. Cas mimics him, accepting Dean’s lifted-arm invitation and snuggling close. Dean hands him one of his earbuds, and when the podcast starts, he doesn’t hesitate to close his eyes and rest his head on Dean’s shoulder. He smiles when he feels Dean’s head on his and their fingers link together between them. 

Cas knows he should be paying attention to the effect they’re having on the people next to them, specifically their roommate. That’s why they’re doing this, after all. But it’s hard to remember to focus on others when his best friend is warm and close. He supposes that if they were truly dating, his focus would be solely on Dean, anyway, so snuggling closer and tuning the others out can only help their cause. He does so, sighing happily.

They listen for about an hour, then Dean switches to music. Cas smiles when he recognizes his own playlist from their shared Spotify plan. 

“I haven’t listened to this playlist,” Dean says after a few songs. “I like it.”

Cas hums, content in his little bubble...until one particular song comes on. He isn’t one to look into the meaning of songs too closely, choosing songs more for how they sound or whatever feeling they evoke rather than the words. But as they listen to “sex,” he starts to panic. Dean, oblivious, innocently sings _I think I’m catching feelings_ and _No I don’t know how to forget you_ as if he isn’t detailing Cas’ own internal struggle. Before he can devolve into the sweats and hyperventilating, though, it ends and another one plays, something that has nothing to do with falling for the person you’re not supposed to fall for. He relaxes.

After a few more songs, a bluesy ballad starts, one he wouldn’t normally admit to liking but, damn it, he does. Dean presses a finger to Cas’ cheek. “We’re on a date. Let’s dance.”

It’s so stereotypically date-like that it’s laughable—he’s never danced with any of his partners, not in the way Dean is suggesting—yet, despite knowing why Dean is doing this, Cas is no longer relaxed. “Okay,” he says, trying to sound starry-eyed instead of nervous to the point of puking.

Somewhere near them, Vaughn and his friends are drinking and listening to music themselves, but Cas can only hear “Us” through their shared earbuds, can only see and feel Dean around him. It’s all stupid, he thinks—he doesn’t do these stupid, cliché things like stupid candlelight dinners and sharing stupid earbuds and dancing to stupid, _stupid_ songs about believing in each other. He doesn’t look into deep, green eyes, doesn’t hold hands between chests, doesn’t meet soft, yielding lips. He doesn’t fall in love with friends. He doesn’t. He can’t. 

His heart doesn’t listen to his arguments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh...could Cas' mind be changing?
> 
> And what the hell was up with Vaughn?
> 
> The songs in this chapter are:  
> "sex" by Eden  
> "Us" by James Bay


	13. Just Two Buddies Sharing a Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, just two buddies sharing a bed.
> 
> Some levity and fluff in this one. XO

The bed looms in front of them, and Cas panics.

They’ve shared a bed before, stumbling drunk into the same one at a party or their own dorm room, when visiting Dean at his house, and that one time when they went to the mountains for the weekend with Jo and Charlie and there were only two beds and a lumpy couch no one wanted. But those times were different. Those times were of necessity, or of fatigue, or of being too out of it to care. Yes, there’s a certain necessity to this now, too, a need to lend credence to their story. He shouldn’t be panicking. However, the weight of his tangled thoughts and feelings is crushing his heart. It’s begging for mercy, and he doesn’t know how to give it.

Or perhaps he does, but he won’t. 

So instead, he nitpicks.

“You put our beds on the wrong sides.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I sleep on the left.”

“I sleep on the left.”

“No, I do. We fight about this every time we share a bed. You know I like to be on the left.”

“Why does it fucking matter?”

“Because it does.”

“Ugh. Buddy, you’re a pain in my ass.”

This time, Cas doesn’t correct his use of the word “buddy,” even though there’s a part of him that bemoans it. Nor does he make a joke about anal sex like he otherwise might. “I like the left.”

“Fine, fine. You can be on the left. I’ll be on the right. Which is fitting ‘cause I’m always right.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

“I saw that,” Dean retorts, shoving him lightly. “I’m not moving the beds tonight, though. We can just sleep on each other’s mattresses. Come on.”

They turn off the lights, then climb into bed. Cas stays carefully to his twin mattress and notices Dean stays to his. Not that Cas should’ve expected anything different, of course. It just feels...strange. Wrong for reasons he can’t— _won’t_ —acknowledge. 

He chews his lips. He stares into the darkness. He plays the church and steeple game with his hands. 

He rolls over, burying his face into the pillow. It smells so much like Dean, despite the fresh pillowcase. He wonders why they didn’t switch pillows, at least, but isn’t going to point it out. He rolls onto his back again. He makes more churches and steeples.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you want to do for our next date?”

Cas’ heartbeat picks up speed. “Um, I’m not sure.”

“Thinkin’ we might need to go outside of the apartment. Make it more realistic. If we were dating, I’d wanna take you everywhere.”

“You...would?”

“Of course I would. I’d wanna show the world we’re together.”

“But your dad…”

“Yeah, I know, I know, but fuck my dad, man. Nothing would stop me from being with you.”

Cas swears his heart stops. This is new. He finds enough breath in his lungs to squeak, “But why? You’ve never had a relationship with a guy because of the shit with your dad. Why would I be any different?”

There’s a long pause. 

_Oh. Great. Way to make it awkward_ . _You’re acting like this completely hypothetical situation is real, you dumb fuck. He was just being nice to your sorry, can’t-keep-a-partner ass._ “Sorry, that was stupid. I—”

“Because you’d be worth it,” Dean interrupts, quiet yet firm. “You’re awesome and you’d be worth it.”

It’s Cas’ turn to pause. _Does he really feel that way, or is he just being a good friend? And does it really matter if he does? You’d probably screw it up somehow._ “Yeah, well, tell that to my exes,” he finally says. He can’t let himself believe they could be something, even if he desperately wants to. 

“No. _Fuck_ them, Cas,” Dean hisses. “You were a great boyfriend to those losers, and you’d be a great boyfriend if we were together, okay?” 

“I...huh. Well. Guess it’s all hypothetical anyway.” Cas cringes as he realizes how that sounds. “So, uh, date, yes. That’s what we were talking about before we went down the rabbit hole.”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean’s voice is light, but the heaviness of the odd conversation lingers in his tone. “So, I was thinkin’ skating at the campus rink? Maybe dinner after?”

“That sounds fun. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“Yeah. Okay. Tomorrow, if it’s open? We can check the schedule.”

“Okay. Yeah. Well, guess we should get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Night, Cas.”

“Night, Dean.”

“Make sure you stay on your side.”

Cas’ gut twists. “Yeah, I will.”

“’Cause if your hot ass ends up against my dick, I might coat those fine cakes with nizzle-drizzle. It’s nature. I don’t make the rules.”

He can hear Dean’s self-satisfied grin in his voice. Dean totally set him up. Cas’ entire body relaxes at their familiar banter. “Gonna squirt some weiner juice between my split buns?”

“Spread some jelly on your toast.”

“Sounds delicious, but maybe I want a protein shake instead.”

“Yeah? You want some throat yogurt?”

“I’m up for a penis colada.”

Dean’s belly laughs fill the room and sweep the angst from Cas’ heart. He laughs along with him, wiping tears from his eyes. God, it feels good to goof around with his best friend. When they finally catch their breaths, Dean says, “Okay, okay, really going to sleep now.”

“Okay.”

Cas closes his eyes. Dean giggles. Cas giggles. Soon, they’re roaring once again. It takes them three tries before they finally get everything out of their systems. 

Lying quietly once more, Cas considers his relationship with Dean. Though it’s what he fears the most, it’s hard to imagine that what they have would ever change if they really did get together. Dean is adamant that his previous friendships-turned-relationships went wrong because of the other guys, not him. Maybe he’s right. Sometimes our best friends know us better than we know ourselves. And if it’s true that he’s not the one that fucked up, then maybe he could have a good relationship with a friend. With Dean. It’s fucking terrifying to consider. But it’s fucking terrifying not to consider, too. Because the truth is that he’s in love with Dean, no matter how much he wants to deny it. He’s probably been in love with him for a long time, falling deeper and deeper without fully understanding what was happening. Hell, he was probably already in love with him when he started dating what’s-his-face. Grayson. Right. How could he forget?

He could forget because Dean isn’t Grayson, is nothing like him. He’s sweet and sincere, open and silly. They’ve been painfully honest with each other, and they’ve gone through some tough shit and made it through. It’s almost foolish to think they wouldn’t make it.

But.

There is still the issue of whether Dean has feelings for him in the first place. He’s not sure of that one, though with how real everything feels with Dean, he’s wondered. But even if he does have feelings for him, there’s still the issue of Dean’s father and how shitty and insecure he makes Dean feel. Cas sighs quietly. Dean may be able to talk a good game, but a hypothetical situation is nothing like a real one. The last thing Cas wants to do is give his heart to Dean only for Dean to not feel the same way—or, even worse, to feel the same way, but still not be able to go through with it because of his dad. 

There’s only one way to find out, really. But he’s too scared just yet. It feels too precarious. So he rolls over to face Dean, the dark a welcome cover for his vulnerability. “Dean?”

He hears rustling as Dean rolls over. “Yeah?”

Cas reaches a hand to clamp his shoulder. “Maybe you were trying to boost my ego with what you said, but seriously, Dean. You deserve to be with whoever you wanna be with. Your dad can go to hell.”

A small huff, a shift of blankets, and Dean is wrapping him in an unexpected embrace. “Thanks, Cas.”

They part and roll back to their own mattresses again. Cas finds his eyes fluttering shut, his body surrendering to sleep even though he’d love to keep talking, to keep juggling this around in his head, to figure out, once and for all, what this is and what it could be.

Just as he drifts off, he hears Dean whisper, “I do like to cuddle, so. You know.”

Cas smiles, wondering if Dean is getting closer to being ready to face his own demons, like Cas is.

* * *

Dean wakes to warmth all around him—soft flannel sheets, weighty blankets, the tick of the old heater, and an arm spanning his back. His arms, too, seem to be full of warmth. He frowns and opens his eyes.

That’s Cas’ chest, right in front of his face.

Dean swallows. Stills. Takes a subtle whiff of Cas’ skin, so close to his nose.

_Holy shit._

He’s not sure what to do. There’s no way he wants to leave this happy little cocoon. But does Cas really know what he’s doing right now? Would he be doing it if he was awake? He’s still debating the ethics of it all when Cas speaks.

“Damn, you really are a cuddle bear.”

_Fuck._

“Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed by his desire to latch onto Cas at every opportunity, even while sleeping. He tries to wiggle away, but Cas holds on. 

“Do you know we’ve done more boyfriendy things than I ever did with my boyfriends?”

“We, uh, we have?”

“Mmmhmm. I never slow danced with any of mine.”

Dean swallows his cautious excitement at being the first to give something like that to Cas. “No?”

“Nope. No one ever made me dinner, either, never mind a candlelit one. I mean, we were in dorms so I guess that would’ve been tough, but still. You and I managed to make all kinds of things in our dorm room.”

When Dean realizes Cas is relaxed, conversational, and has no intention of letting him go, Dean’s muscles loosen. He moves just enough to look at Cas, but not enough to make Cas’ arm fall away. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, man.”

“Exactly. I mean, we made whole-ass meals with a hot plate and a microwave. My favorite one was that one with the cream of mushroom soup and the crispy onions.”

Chuckling, Dean recalls, “I remember that one. The first time we made it, I drained the spaghetti in the bathroom sink. There was a guy taking a shit in there, and I remember thinking, ‘What the fuck am I doing?’, you know, like ‘What’s my life?’ But when I came back our entire room smelled like farts ‘cause of the broccoli you cooked, and we spilled those damn French fried onions on the floor but we picked ‘em up and used ‘em ‘cause we didn’t have any more, and I couldn’t stop fuckin’ laughing ‘cause we were the same kind of crazy, you know?”

“That was a fun night. The food tasted fuckin’ awesome, too.”

“We oughta make it again.”

“The third date.”

They smile at each other. Cas has the softest look on his face, and it makes Dean want to kiss him because he feels crazy in a whole other way. But he has no valid reason right now. 

“It’s weird, but over Christmas, Gabe and Hannah were helping me find romantic things we could do for this whole thing we’re doing, and we’d done all of them.”

“Shit, really?”

“Yeah. It was...I dunno, just weird, I mean, like, the whole thing...to have a best friend who I’ve done more romantic stuff with than any of my partners, you know? It’s strange how thin the line between friends and partners is sometimes.”

Dean knows he’s breathing, but he’s not sure how. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Cas bites his lip. “Like, I can see how best friends end up together. Just, um...weird.”

“Weird.”

Cas is still holding him, with his arm and his eyes. Dean’s lips part, both hoping to be kissed and desperate for oxygen. 

“It doesn’t always work out,” he says slowly, quietly.

Despair oozes through Dean’s body like mud. _Shit._

“But...sometimes it does.”

And, like rain, optimism comes in to wash away the despair. 

“Yeah. Sometimes it does. Lots of times.”

Cas studies his face, his eyes darting between Dean’s. “If both people want it and are ready for it.”

This could be _It_. Their moment. Except...there’s doubt, hesitation in Cas’ gaze. Maybe he’s not ready yet. But he’s closer. So much closer.

“Yeah. Well, I guess, if they’re really good friends, they’d be patient with each other.”

“Yeah.”

Dean’s stomach growls. Cas snickers. “Go eat.”

Dean curses his body’s poor timing and inconvenient needs. He’s _very_ reluctant to leave Cas’ side, fearful that they won’t have this closeness again. But it’ll be awkward if he doesn’t. “Uh, yeah, guess I should.”

Cas lets him go. Dean sits up, then flops over himself. “Ugh. Don’t wanna get out of bed.”

“You can bring it back.”

Schooling his face into one of casual consideration rather than ecstatic cheering, Dean says, “Breakfast in bed, huh?”

“Sure. We’re on vacation. We can be lazy this morning. We’ve earned it.”

“Damn right,” Dean grins, just barely keeping himself from pumping his fist. 

He slips some pants on, then shuffles to the door. With his hand on the knob, Cas says to his back, “Besides, you don’t want to miss out on cuddling, do you?”

His entire body flushes, something he didn’t think was possible. How to respond? He could ignore him as if he didn’t hear, flip him the bird, or sate his curiosity and find out how the hell they got into that position to begin with. They’ve never ended up cuddling like that before. He turns. “Um, how, uh, how did that, uh, happen?” He wags a finger toward their— _their, holy shit_ —bed.

A teasing grin spreads slowly across Cas’ face. “Wellllll…” he starts, and now Dean is certain he should’ve chosen option B for Bird. Way easier. “You were talking in your sleep…”

_Shit._

“...and you said, quote, ‘I’m a cuddle bear.’”

“I fucking did not.”

Cas hisses in laughter. “I swear you did. Clear as fucking day, too.”

“You are a lying liar.”

“Dude, I swear on my life. Honestly. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up, I was laughing _so_ hard.”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t believe you.”

“Hey, listen, all I’m saying is that as soon as I got within reaching distance, you grabbed me.”

“Shut up!”

Cas tucks his arm (his bare arm, because he doesn’t have a shirt on, _fuck_ ) behind his head. “Get me some coffee and one of those orange scones I brought back?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean hightails it out of their bedroom, this time pretending not to hear Cas’ “Thanks, cuddle bear!”

Of course he grabbed onto Cas in his sleep, he thinks as he putters around the kitchen. Dean sighs. Well, at least he got a little cuddle time. In bed. That’s going to make it into his fantasies—not the jerk-off fantasies, but the ones that play in his mind when he’s drifting to sleep, or when he’s sitting with Cas on the loveseat, or walking to class. And hell, who’s he kidding? It’s probably going to make it into his jerk-off fantasies, too. He knew he was kind of pathetic, but _Jesus_. 

He grunts a greeting to Vaughn as they pass each other, Vaughn giving him the barest of greetings but his gaze lingering on the cups and plate in his hands. Dean ignores him and shoulders the bedroom door open. Cas is sitting up; their pillows are propped side by side, squished together. He takes the plate while Dean places the hot beverages on their end tables. When he reaches for his pillow to slide it over, though, Cas tugs it back. “Lazy mornings are for cuddling, cuddle bear,” he says, almost sternly. 

“Cas…”

“Shut up. I never got to do this with anyone else. Now come on.”

_Fuck yes._

Dean doesn’t allow himself another moment of doubt or hesitation as he slides into bed. He slouches just a little so that Cas can slink his arm around him. They drink coffee and eat orange scones and Dean tries not to think about how real this feels...until he notices the bedroom door is open.

Shit, is this part of the act? Is that why Cas asked him to get all lovey-dovey—because he left the door open and Cas is hoping Vaughn sees them? He can’t ask him, obviously, or that’ll blow everything wide open. So, he goes with it, though his joy about it is muted. 

At least until Vaughn leaves. 

When the door slams, Cas huffs in frustration. “Wish he wouldn’t slam the fucking door all the time.”

“No shit.”

“Bastard.”

“Right? Well, fuck ’im.” 

“Right.” Cas leans down, his arm slipping away from Dean. No surprise there. He should’ve known it wouldn’t last once Douchenozzle was gone. Cas sits up, his Macbook in his hand. “You wanna watch Netflix?”

Dean brightens. He may not get to cuddle Cas right now, but at least they’re hanging out alone, for however long that lasts. “Yeah.”

“Good. Set it up, I gotta piss.”

“Keepin’ it classy.”

“You know me.”

Dean smirks and punches in Cas’ password. When Cas returns, he has more scones and two more cups of coffee. “We might be here a while,” he smirks. With that, he sets everything down and climbs into bed. Dean hits start on _Bird Box_ , then settles back against his pillow...and Cas’ arm. 

There’s nobody here.

And they’re cuddling.

In bed.

Maybe Cas is closer to being ready than he thought.

He smiles and snuggles in, not saying a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, Cas might be ready! But is Dean? He thinks he is, but does his best friend know him better than he knows himself?
> 
> The dish they made in their dorm room can be found here: [Dev's Dorm Room Casserole](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/47194/devs-dorm-room-casserole/)


	14. Hanging Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, friends, another bit of fluff and fun...including some NSFW fun.

Cas can’t stop thinking about Dean.

His kind nature. His sincerity. The way he puts everyone at ease. 

His smile. His eyes. His hair.

His flushed, sweaty face. The smell of salt and hard water on his skin. The taste of his tongue, and how quickly their mouths taste the same when they make out. 

They’ve only been sleeping together for two nights, and he can’t get him out of his head. 

The acknowledgement of his feelings for him and his openness to considering more with him hasn’t helped that. Nor has the near-constant arousal he’s been experiencing since they returned from break.

Today is their ice skating “date”. The school’s rink wasn’t open yesterday, so they stuck around home, silently plotting the murder of their roommate after discovering that much of their food in the fridge was spoiled (“Power must have gone out during the night,” Vaughn had said, but they knew better). Cas swears the guy just gets worse and worse. This morning his alarms started going off at 5:00 and kept going off at ten-minute intervals until 8:00. 

It doesn’t seem to be limited to just them, at least. Vaughn spent most of his day yesterday gossiping with Isaiah about how Ethan was becoming a “pansy-ass bitch.” Later on, though, when Ethan stopped by with Nathan and a few of their female friends, Vaughn was kissing the guy’s ass. It was disgusting, and Cas wondered whether Ethan knew that Vaughn's a snake. Ethan’s not a bad guy, Cas had decided. A little sheltered and misguided, perhaps. Maybe just trying to find his place, figure himself out. Cas could relate. So when Ethan came to the kitchen for a glass of water (using one of Dean and Cas’ glasses, but Cas wasn’t going to point that out because he’s not an asshole), Cas couldn’t help but nod toward Vaughn and murmur “Watch yourself.” He was surprised when Ethan nodded and whispered, “You too.”

He’s still thinking about that, but Vaughn is the least of his issues right now.

Because he has a date with Dean today. 

And this raging hard-on of his is a problem. 

Dean finally fell back asleep, tired enough to sleep through the last few alarms. He’s happy for him, but Dean’s grip around his forearms is strong, and he’s tucked all along his body. He does seem to enjoy being the little spoon. And cuddling. It makes Cas think that there just might be some real feelings on Dean’s side. 

Cas is certainly feeling some things. Some things that he really, _really_ needs to take care of.

Dean shifts in his sleep, making Cas’ problem worse as he shimmies further against him...and, more to the point, against his crotch. He hasn’t had sex in so long, and that, combined with his feelings for Dean...he has to get himself out of here.

Slowly, he inches back. Dean mumbles in his sleep and holds on tighter. Cas takes a deep breath, and then another. _Maggots. Festering wounds. Trump. Vaughn._ None of the disgusting things he thinks of help calm his boner, no matter how much he wants them to. He thinks that maybe he can wait Dean out, but it hurts. He tries again, and again, but Dean will not let go of his arms. Cas sighs. He didn’t want to wake him, but he has to.

“Dude, I need to piss.”

Dean frowns but releases him. _Finally_.

He heads for the bathroom, only for Vaughn to sweep by him and slam the door shut, locking it behind him. _Fucking asshole._

With a growl, he shuffles back into the bedroom to throw more clothes on, then turns and pads downstairs to Charlie and Jo’s. “Can I use your bathroom?” he asks. He sure as hell isn’t going to jerk off in there, but he really does have to pee, now that he thinks about it.

“Okaaaay?” Jo agrees. 

“Vaughn,” he explains. She rolls her eyes and nods. 

In the bathroom, his dick is insistent on standing at attention (waiting _for_ attention). “Fuckin’ A,” he mutters, sighing and rolling his eyes. He’s glad no one’s around to witness his humiliation as he pushes his pants and underwear to his ankles, then takes a knee in front of the toilet. He shifts to his left a little and just manages to hit the porcelain bowl. He offers up thanks that he hit his target and didn't have to clean urine off the rim (or worse).

Cas cleans up and shuffles past his friends, who chuckle at him. “It’s not funny,” he grumbles. “We live with an asshole.”

“Not that,” Jo smirks. “How’s sleeping with Dean going?” She points at his lounge pants, which are thin and a bit too revealing. 

“Shut up. I gotta go...deal.”

“Happy slappy!” Charlie trills.

He loves and hates his friends in equal measure.

Back at the apartment, Vaughn is still in the shower and their door is still closed. Cas bites his lip, wiggling it in thought. “Fuck it,” he mutters. He knows Vaughn will be in the shower for a long time, if only to piss them off, and Dean sleeps like the dead once he’s out. Grabbing some tissues and making sure the throw is nearby so he can cover himself if he needs to, Cas reclines against the loveseat and wraps his hand around his cock.

The relief he feels at touching himself is almost overwhelming. He’s been hard for so long that he has to ease into it, like coaxing an animal to come from its hiding place. When his dick seems to understand, he picks up his pace and tightens his grip, creating a tunnel to push into. He groans. 

Cas lets his mind conjure Dean, sleep-wrinkled and needy, rubbing his ass against Cas’ cock and begging for Cas to fuck him. Cas obliges, flipping Dean onto his back and thrusting into his already-lubed and open hole (thank you, power of imagination) and plunging his tongue into his mouth. _Mmm._ He slings Dean’s legs over his shoulders for better leverage and targets his prostate ruthlessly, making Dean scream and dig his nails painfully through his hair, down his back, into his ass. They kiss so hard they taste copper, cling so firmly they can’t breathe, and still they go, Dean meeting him thrust for thrust. Cas pulls at his own hair as his balls tighten, his breaths nearly absent as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. With a cry and one final thrust inside his imaginary lover, he comes across his belly. Slumping down in his seat, he gulps down the air he’d been depriving his body of for the last couple of minutes. He smiles when his breathing returns to normal, letting himself indulge in one last caress of his cock and one last image of Dean, smoothing the hair away from his sweaty forehead and saying “That was awesome, sweetheart, love you” before he wraps them in the blankets again. 

The shower stops. Cas, relieved of his immediate problem, at least, wipes himself with tissues and tucks himself in. He crumples the tissues in his hand and stands. Heading toward the trash can, he stops, smirks, and goes back to the loveseat, dropping the wad of tissues onto the floor, where Vaughn can see it. It’s not a used condom, but it should get the point across. And if Dean asks, well, he’ll tell him what it is and how it got there. Just not who he was thinking of.

* * *

A sliver of light cuts through the darkness of Dean’s blanket burrito. “Hey,” Cas’ low, sexy rumble purrs near his ear. “Coffee’s brewing. I’m getting into the shower. Hoping Douchenozzle hasn’t used all the hot water.”

“’Kay. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Fingers ruffle his hair, then he’s plunged into darkness again. After a minute, the door closes. A minute after that, the shower starts.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers, whipping the blankets off.

He wasn’t supposed to see what he saw. Obviously. But _fuck_ was it the hottest thing he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a number of hot things in his life.

He woke when he heard the apartment door close and someone shuffling around. He lay there a few minutes, letting himself wake up as he thought about his date with Cas later today. He mind wandered a bit, imagining all the ways this date could open Cas’ eyes (and heart) more and hoping he didn’t make a complete ass of himself on the ice. Eventually, nature determined that he needed to get up to piss and get some coffee. He hoped it was Cas taking a shower; Vaughn always locked the door so they couldn’t get in, the prick. He slipped on a bathrobe and was about to open the bedroom door when he heard a groan...not of pain or sleepiness or derision, but pleasure. He slipped out the door quietly and saw Cas. 

Cas, jerking off on their loveseat, head arched back and throat exposed. 

For all they talked about getting off, they’d never seen each other do it. He knew this was a private moment, that he should turn away. But he couldn’t. Dean’s eyes followed every lick of Cas’ lips, every swallow, every shiver. He watched him until he came. Some people make weird faces when they come, but not Cas. No, Cas’ face was all deep concentration and blissful surrender. He made losing control look stunningly gorgeous. It was all Dean could do to not drop to his knees in front of him and beg him to let him come while Cas watched, just to show him what he did to him. 

He wondered what Cas was thinking of when his breathing slowed and his smile widened, but he had little time to ponder it because he had to get himself the hell out of there.

Now, with Cas in the shower, he has some time to get off, too. But it feels wrong, to do it when he’d be getting off on watching something he had no business watching. So he takes a few breaths and checks his phone instead, knowing that his erection will eventually simmer down. He makes sure that the ice rink is still open today, then thinks about what they’ll do afterward. Within a few minutes, his dick has calmed down enough to put on some pants and get that coffee Cas mentioned. He makes a pit stop at the bathroom, then pours a cup of coffee for himself and one for Cas, too. He completely ignores Vaughn on his side of the living room as he settles onto theirs.

“Coffee. Thank you, babe,” Cas says from behind him. He’s in jeans and nothing else, and as Dean thinks about his state just a short time ago, his dick immediately perks up. It doesn’t get any better when Cas plants his hot ass right next to Dean. He picks up his coffee and sips it. “Perfect, like you,” he winks. “You know just what I like.”

With Cas’ feet propped onto the coffee table and legs bent and spread, Dean has a hard time thinking of all of the sexy and/or witty responses he’s supposed to say. “I pay attention,” he utters dumbly.

“You sure do.” He chucks him under the chin, then leans forward to put his cup back on the table. “Oh, I guess we didn’t pay attention to this, though. I wondered where we dropped that.” 

Dean’s eyes widen. He knows Cas must have planted the tissues on the floor to gross out Vaughn (which totally works, he sees in his periphery), but are those tissues _the_ tissues? The ones Cas used earlier? Without thinking, he plucks the tissues out of Cas’ hand. “Dude, we gotta put a trash can over here,” he says lightly, taking the tissues and carrying them to the can in their bedroom. It’s disgusting, he knows, to be so thrilled to hold a wad of Cas’ wad, but Dean’s never been known for being couth. When he returns, Cas says nothing about it, and they carry on as if everything is completely normal.

Which is good, because he has enough going on in his head right now.

Like their skating date. Which isn’t a date. But sort of is.

They spend the remainder of their morning and early afternoon listening to music and goofing around, not doing much at all. Once in a while, Dean kisses him. Once in a while, Cas does the same. When it’s time to leave for their date, Dean reaches for Cas’ hand, and Cas meets him halfway. It’s remarkable how unremarkable it is now, how they fit and flow so well together that no one looking at them would think twice about whether they’re the real thing. 

Maybe that’s why the date itself is also remarkable in how unremarkable it is. They razz each other. Cas shows off. Dean flips him off. They laugh. They share fries with vinegar. They hold hands, and it’s thrilling, but it’s thrilling in the way that Dean thinks it will always be thrilling with Cas. Dinner, too, is remarkable in how natural it feels, how utterly _them_ they are. They sit on the same side of the table, sharing a Pu Pu for Two and a Scorpion Bowl, talking about everything except their asshole roommate. 

On the path up to their apartment, Dean sees Cas glance at him. When he turns to him, Cas is looking at his feet, a little smile on his face. Dean tucks his hands in his pockets and presses his lips together, swallowing down the sparks that are burning his throat and making it hard to breathe.

The apartment is dark when they return. “That was fun,” Cas declares as he unlocks the door. “I don’t know if anyone saw us, but…” He turns to Dean and shrugs, letting the rest of his thought go unsaid.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, making his way through the door. He shrugs, too. “Well, um, I think Douchenozzle’s coming back soon, so, uh, I dunno what you wanna do, if you wanna, you know, or not…”

“Well, it would make sense that we would be, uh, _happy_ after our date…”

Dean meets Cas’ eyes. “Yeah…”

It’s the last thing they say before they lunge for each other, pushing off coats and stumbling over hastily-removed shoes as their mouths meet. “We should make it...realistic…” Cas pants.

“Yeah...realistic,” Dean mumbles against his lips. 

Dean falls to the loveseat and pulls Cas along; Cas follows without hesitation, pressing into him. 

Hands search. Teeth nip. Chests rumble. Groins bump...grind...and grind some more. 

_Fuck._

Dean recognizes the familiar build and pull of orgasm, and with everything that happened today, he knows it’s imminent. His head will only be clear a moment longer, he’s sure of it. “Cas,” he mouths around his best friend’s lips, “we gotta—’m gonna—”

“What?”

“If we don’t stop this is gonna—” Keys jangling outside the door alert Dean to a whole other problem. “Shit!”

Somehow, Cas seems to at least figure out from his senseless babbling that something is wrong. He stands them up quickly, jamming his hands in Dean’s armpits and practically picking him up, then rushes them toward their bedroom. They stumble through their door just as Vaughn turns on the living room light. 

Cas slams the door, then slams him against it. He makes his usual noises and gestures to make Vaughn think they’re making out. “Gonna suck your cock so hard you won’t be able to speak,” Cas growls aloud. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to suck your brain right through your dick and make you a mess?”

Dean doesn’t have to act when he whines, “God, Cas, yes, shit.”

“Drop your pants.”

He knows Cas is expecting him to slip out of his jeans like they’ve done before, like this is no big deal. But he can’t do that right now, because he _knows_ his underwear is wet and his cock is hard and ready to spout off at the barest breeze. He shakes his head.

“Don’t play, babe. Drop ‘em. Need your cock.”

“Can’t,” he puffs, grimacing. 

Cas raises a brow and mouths _Are you okay?_

And, well, Cas has seen him at some pretty low points, and he promised himself and their friends that he was going to be honest and show Cas how he feels (hopefully without scaring him away). Plus, there’s no way he didn’t feel how hard he was when they were grinding together. He licks and bites his bottom lip as he shakes his head again.

There’s a flicker of concern in Cas’ eyes until, suddenly, he seems to get it. He pulls Dean off the door and leads him to the bed, pressing his shoulder until he sits. _Take care of it,_ he mouths, then says “Get on the bed, babe” aloud.

Dean stares at him, wide-eyed. _I can’t—_

_I’ll turn around._

_But—_

Cas throws his own pants on the floor, strategically landing them in front of the crack under the door, probably to stymie Vaughn in case he’s trying more of his disgusting espionage. He turns on some music and raises the volume of the Bluetooth speaker before slipping on sweatpants. Dean is gratified to see that he had a decent wet spot on his underwear, just like Dean does. 

_Go ahead._

_I’m not doing it!_

Cas arches a brow at him, then puts one hand on his hip. He raises the other and sticks two of his fingers in his mouth. “Oh, fuck, Dean,” he moans, shouting above the music as he sucks. “Want you to come on my face.”

Dean gapes at him. _Not fair!_ he mouths, pointing an accusatory finger. They shared their kinks with each other and he _knows_ that’s a thing for him. 

Cas smiles and sucks some more.

Dean sneers.

Cas winks.

And Dean is done for.

_Only if you do_ , he challenges.

There’s only the barest hint of surprise before Cas sits on the floor on the other side of the bed, facing away from him. “Happy slappy,” he whispers. 

Of all the outcomes he anticipated tonight, masturbating in the same room just feet from each other was not one of them. He’s not sure if he should really do this or if this is some kind of colossal joke until a tube lands next to him and he hears a sigh and the unmistakable sound of lube squelching through a hand. 

_Holy shit._

Dean gets with the program then, grabbing the lube and sliding to the floor. He barely gets his slick hand around his dick before he’s groaning. Cas echoes him. He’s a goner then; hearing Cas’ pleasure while chasing his own is too good to fight, and soon he’s crying out and spilling onto his shirt. He hears Cas just a moment later, and his dick makes a valiant attempt to resurrect itself just to join in Cas’ bliss. 

He wipes his dick with his shirt and wiggles his boxers back on. The music seems too loud now, and yet not enough to drown out the awkwardness in the room. Dean shivers and ponders what the hell he says to the man he loves who doesn’t know he loves him yet.

“You decent over there?” Cas whispers.

“Never,” Dean jokes. Cas chuckles, which calms Dean’s racing thoughts.

Cas brings him a hoodie and sweatpants, then sits next to him, eyes on his lap. “Guess that was sort of needed.” 

“Yeah.”

“Sorry if that wasn’t something you were comfortable with. I wasn’t really thinking, you just looked so miserable and I didn’t want you to be—”

“Dude, it was fine. There’s not much I'm not comfortable with when it comes to you.”

Cas turns to him, and Dean meets his eyes. “Same. Though, gotta say, not something I’ve done with my other friends.”

Dean laughs at Cas’ teasing grin. “Just one of the many crazy things we’ve done that no one else has.”

They bump fists.

“So, we’re okay?”

Dean nods slowly, even though his heart is beating wildly. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

“Good,” Cas says, standing. “Let’s grab some food and we’ll watch a movie of your choice, how’s that?”

“Awesome.”

Vaughn doesn’t say a word when they emerge, but he eyes Dean and shakes his head. With that one disapproving look, Dean feels his anxiety threaten to break him apart.

The sweet kiss Cas gives him keeps him together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, just two bros hanging out...as bros do. Doing stuff that bros do. Ahem.


	15. Birthdays Suck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of you wondered what Vaughn’s up to. Suspicious lot, aren’t you? 
> 
> *A warning for those who may desire it is in the end notes. It’s probably nothing you wouldn’t expect given the nature of the themes of the story, but it is there for you. ❤️

It’s been nearly three weeks since Cas and Dean returned from the holidays, and a couple of days since everyone else did. Classes will start again on Tuesday, so for now they’re hanging out with their friends, enjoying their last bit of freedom before their grueling final semester of senior year. 

“So, catch us up,” Reagan says. “What’d you do at home, Cas?”

“Eh, you know, hung with the fam, annoyed my brother Michael, spent some time with Buzz Aldrin.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs at Cas’ nickname for his vibrating sex toy (one that Gabe gave him the money for once he found out about the Peer Education thing because “you need to educate them on _everything_ , man”—so embarrassing but, ultimately, one of the best gifts Gabe indirectly gave him). Of course, Dean immediately jumps into their familiar, comfortable banter about all things sex.

“Him and Neil Armstrong make a great team,” Dean cackles as he mimes a particularly vigorous dick wank. 

“That why your _arm_ is so _strong_ , Cas?” Felix smirks.

“My dudes, don’t use real people’s names to talk about your sex stuff, gross,” Charlie interjects with a long-suffering moan.

“You’re right, sorry. We can talk about how Buzz gives me a Woody, is that better?”

“Stop ruining the purity of my childhood!” Charlie shrieks, smacking Cas in the arm. He jostles her with his elbow. Charlie’s great, but sometimes she doesn’t get the intricacies (and complete inappropriateness) of boy humor.

Also ignoring Charlie’s disgust, Dean comments, “His arm is getting a break now that his space flight is fully manned.” 

The entire statement is a lie. Their friends know the truth about half of it—that his flight is a solo operation (Vaughn’s in the other room so they’re keeping up their ruse just in case)—but they don’t know that Cas’ arm is getting quite the workout, thanks to this new “jerk off with a friend” thing they’re doing together, sitting on the floor on opposite sides of the bed like the first time. They tell each other that it’s cool, that it’s “nature” and a way to relieve all the stress of their situation (plus “it sounds more realistic,” each of them said at one time or another), but Cas knows they’re lying. Or he is, anyway. 

“Room for one more Astroglide-naut on the flight?” Bal asks with a wink.

“No,” Cas and Dean spit simultaneously. Bal chortles.

Shaking his head, Reagan turns to Dean. “And what did _you_ do for the holidays, Dean?” 

“Not much, honestly. Hung out with Mom and Sam.”

Jo huffs. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, yeah, Jo’s mother was there, too.”

“Fuck you.”

Dean sticks out his tongue and Cas grins. He loves the pseudo-sibling relationship Dean has with her. 

“Did you see your dad?” Calvin questions Dean.

“Nah. He didn’t call, and neither did I. Ended up coming back to the apartment early anyway. No big loss.” Dean meets Cas’ eyes and twists his mouth into a grimace. 

Most of their friends don’t know just how much Dean’s father has affected him. Jo knows, and maybe Charlie by extension, but Cas probably knows the most. It’s the reason why, despite how incredible their last three weeks of “dating” have been, Cas still hasn’t broached the topic of becoming more. He’s (mostly) over his fear that he’ll screw things up, and he’s (pretty) sure that Dean (maybe, _possibly_ ) has feelings for him of some sort, but he sure as hell isn’t going to make a move when he isn’t absolutely certain that Dean will be able to go through with it.

A text message captures Cas’ attention. He texts back, then announces, “Well, speaking of holidays...we need to celebrate you, almost-birthday boy.”

“Don’t need to do that,” Dean scoffs, though Cas knows Dean loves to celebrate his birthday. 

“Too late, we’re doing it anyway,” Cas grins, then turns to point at the opening door, where Sam and Mary, Dean’s mother, are coming in, along with Jo’s mother, Ellen.

“Hey, you guys didn’t have to come all this way,” Dean chides unconvincingly as he strides toward them. He’s wearing a huge smile. “It’s not even my birthday yet!”

“We had to be here for your party!” Mary gushes. “We wanted to help you celebrate. Of course, we wanted to see your place, too, and to see this guy!” She makes her way to Cas and hugs him. “Hi, sweetie. Congratulations. It’s about time.”

Cas bites his lip and smiles. “That’s what my mom and Pup said, too.” 

“Of course they did. You two are just adorable together.”

His face warming, Cas pulls out of her arms. “Pizza should be here any minute. I’m gonna grab drinks.” 

Being affectionate in front of Vaughn is one thing, in front of their friends is another, and in public another. But being affectionate in front of Dean’s mother is a different matter altogether. He spends most of dinner playing host in order to avoid Dean, not sure how thickly they should be laying it on. Vaughn, at least, is in his room with Ethan and Nathan, so they don’t have to put on a show for him beyond what they’ve been doing tonight—staying in their roles and speaking loudly enough for Vaughn to hear if he’s listening in. 

Dean, for his part, seems to be avoiding Cas, too.

Ellen calls them on it after Cas gives Dean his gifts: a book about the science of cooking and a “100 Things To Do” scratch-off poster, featuring mild things like _Stay up until sunrise_ and wild things like _Stand on a glacier_. “I thought we could do them together,” he says hopefully.

“I love that,” Dean answers softly. “Thank you, Cas.”

They gaze at each other for a moment. The urge to kiss him is strong. “Um, you’re welcome. So, pie?”

“What is with you two? Dean, he just gave you a wonderful gift, and Cas, we’re celebrating your man’s birthday. Get kissin’ already!”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” chant their unhelpful friends.

Dean rolls his eyes, then pulls Cas to his knees in front of him. “Thank you,” he whispers before planting a tender kiss on Cas’ lips. Cas, forgetting himself, deepens the kiss, thumbing his jaw. He feels Dean respond by leaning closer and clutching the back of his head. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” their friends chant again. 

They part with embarrassed, breathy laughs. Everyone in the room is looking at them with heart eyes. Cas stands. “Uh, so, pie,” he says, wiping his palms together. “Apple, cherry, or pecan?”

Once he has the orders, he retreats to the kitchen. Dean follows. “Go sit, I can get these,” he starts to scold his friend.

Dean takes the pie server (a gift to Dean from Cas for Christmas) and wraps him in a hug. “I hope that wasn’t weird for you,” he whispers.

How can he explain how _not_ weird it was without sounding weird? “No,” he whispers back. “I just wasn’t sure what you wanted to do in front of your family.”

“I doubt they wanna see anything more than kissing.”

Cas smirks and shoves him affectionately, though not far enough for them to separate. “Gross. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grins. “But hey, I told you before,” Dean murmurs between them, “if I was with you, I’d show you off.”

And it was true that Dean had been doing just that, everywhere they went. Cas knew it was part of the act, but when they were out, they were “out,” as it were. Dean never hesitated to take his hand, never looked around before wrapping his arm around him. Dean’s attention, too, was solely on him—not that this was unusual for Dean, but seeing those soft, shining eyes for him and him only, not wandering to other people or better opportunities, was intoxicating. 

With a long look and a long exhale, Cas whispers, “Thanks. That’s, uh...it feels good to hear. Even if it’s...you know.”

Dean licks his lips, nods, darts his eyes to the floor before settling them back onto Cas’ face. His eyes and demeanor shift to one of determination, undeterred by the knock on the door and Vaughn passing them. “You deserve to hear it. You deserve to have it. And I wa—”

“This Dean’s place?”

Dean drops his arms and his gaze, his face paling and morphing into something Cas has never seen, and Cas immediately knows.

It’s John Winchester.

_Motherfucker._

* * *

Dean moves around Cas just in time to meet his father’s eyes. He’s not sure if his father saw his arms around Cas, but he knows he shouldn’t be ashamed if he did. He’s an adult now, and he can choose who he wants. 

Yet, no matter how much he’s grown, how much he wants to be strong about this, he still feels like he’s seventeen and coming out to his father:

_“I’m bisexual, Dad. I like guys, too.”_

_His father looked up at him from the newspaper he still subscribed to. No Internet news for him. Dean swallowed, waiting for his father to yell, to kick him out, hell, maybe to hit him. Or, by some miracle, he’d give him a hug. He stared at him, eyes full of...well, not much, really. Dean waited._

_John Winchester shook his head. He went back to reading his paper, neither acknowledging Dean standing there for ten minutes nor acknowledging his eventual departure._

John hadn’t kept his feelings about “the crumbling of America’s family values” a secret over the years. Given that, as well as their tenuous relationship and the horror stories he’d heard from some of his friends, he knew he should’ve been grateful for the non-reaction. But he wanted _something—_ acceptance, anger, confusion, _anything_. Yet he couldn’t elicit one damn emotion from his father, and it _hurt._

That pain still echoes in his head, and it’s kept him from having anything serious with a guy. He’s never been able to tolerate the noise. “Hey, Dad.”

His father eyes him, then Cas, then him again. “Dean.”

The greeting is flat, unimpressed. So he probably did see something. “Um—”

“What are you doing here?” 

Dean and his father both turn their attention to Sam, whose eyes are blazing with indignance.

“I was invited.”

_Invited?_ Dean whips his head toward Cas, betrayal clawing at his chest. But Cas’ laser eyes are fixed on Vaughn, boring holes into the side of his head as he pays the food delivery guy, who’s had the unfortunate luck to walk in on this. Not Cas’ invitation, then. His anxiety falls away, relieved that this wasn’t Cas’ doing (Dean’s ashamed his brain even went there—he must be more thrown by his father’s appearance than he thought), but ramps right back up as his attention is drawn back to his father and his brother, who are arguing. _Shit._ He needs to stop this.

“...after not bothering with him for how long?”

“Hey, that is none of your—”

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re a busy guy. He’s a busy guy, Sam. Uh, we were just gonna have pie. Wanna join us?”

“Yeah, sounds good. You know I won’t turn down a slice of pie.”

“Yup, just like me! Okay, uh, have a seat, I can take your coat…” 

With a frantic energy he hasn’t felt in a long time, he hangs the wool peacoat onto the doorknob of his bedroom, then shuttles his father to the loveseat, Charlie having moved to one of the folding chairs they bought recently for extra guests. The air is decidedly uncomfortable, and to make matters worse, Vaughn and his buddies are now right next to them on Vaughn’s side of the living room, eating Chinese food and whispering. 

“Bit tight, ain’t it?” his father comments.

“Uh, yeah, each tryin’ to have our space—”

“That’s stupid. Well, gonna introduce me to everyone?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean points to each person his father doesn’t know, saying their names, and awkward hellos are traded. When he gets to Vaughn, their asshole roommate stands and smiles, holding his hand out to shake. 

“Vaughn Reynolds. Glad you could make it. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, sir.”

_That fucking asshole._ Dean should’ve known Vaughn was behind this. He’s not sure how, but it hardly matters now.

“Military?”

“That’s right.”

“It shows. You’re welcome to spread out onto this side for Dean’s party. Seems a bit intolerable to make everyone sit on one side.”

“Ridiculous is what it is. Whose crazy idea was this?”

“I came home one day to find it like this.”

When Dad turns to him with a look of disdain, he averts his eyes. He wants to scream—at Vaughn, for being the utter asshole he is and not saying why it happened that way, at his father, for assuming they didn’t have a damn good reason for doing this, and at himself, for not defending himself and Cas against his father’s silent judgment.

Cas, who he hasn’t even introduced yet. _Fuck_.

Dean clears his throat to do just that, but his father is already engaged in a conversation about Vaughn’s wet dream, Trump, and he hates being interrupted. 

Bal hands him a plate, slices of each pie surrounded by a ring of whipped cream from a can. He thinks of the self-restraint it probably took Cas not to squirt the stuff directly into his mouth, as he likes to do (Dean affectionately calls them his cream shots, to which Cas always winks and licks his lips). The thought of it makes his eyes burn. 

“You okay, love?”

Dean holds his fork listlessly. “Yeah, Bal. Thanks.”

Bal gives him a hug and whispers, “Your father’s an arse.”

“Yeah.”

“Glad you don’t take after him for it.” Bal pecks his cheek, then rubs his shoulder affectionately before moving along. Dean watches him flit away, a reluctant but fond smile perking up one side of his mouth. He may get irritated with Balthazar sometimes, but he’s a good guy, all in all. 

The next half-hour is like a surrealist painting—everything seems out of place, odd. His mother, brother, Ellen, and his father have moved onto Vaughn’s side. Ethan has moved onto their side and is talking in hushed, urgent tones with Charlie and Jo. Dean has been forced to straddle the two areas, trying his best to keep the peace even as Dad and Vaughn become fast friends. Cas stays busy, refilling drinks (even Vaughn’s, which must _kill_ him) and cleaning as he goes. At one point he sees him introducing himself to Dad, calling himself “Dean’s other roommate” and nothing further. The spark of glee in Vaughn’s eyes at hearing that makes Dean cringe. 

He needs to do something. He _told_ Cas that he’d want to show the world they were together, that nothing would stop him from being with him, not even his dad. Cas might’ve thought he was just saying that, but he wasn’t, and he needs Cas to know that. This sick feeling in his gut at having to deal with his dad’s reaction about Cas is nothing compared to how he’ll feel if he says nothing. Omission is denial. He won’t do it. Not to Cas.

Dean wanted to do something about the homophobic asshole in his life. Well, that one hasn’t left their apartment yet, but he’ll be rid of him eventually. Maybe this is the one he really needs to deal with. He’ll show him that his shitty attitude doesn’t matter, that his love for Cas is a hell of a lot more important. Because Cas is worth it. That’s what he told him, and it’s true.

Vaughn, Nathan, and his father are talking in their tight little circle when Dean approaches. “Uh, Dad?”

They keep talking.

“Dad? Sorry to interrupt—”

“Then don’t. I taught you better than that. We’re having a conversation.”

John Winchester may as well have punched him in the nads. He’s humiliated at being blown off. But he perseveres.

“Sorry, but I gotta tell you something.”

Still no response. His nervousness cedes to anger.

“Hey!”

All the conversations around them stop. 

Dark, impatient eyes turn toward him. “What is it that can’t wait five minutes, Dean?”

The anxiety comes rushing back. He could stop. He could say nothing. Would it matter anyway? 

Yes, it would matter...to the guy he’s in love with, watching the scene with concerned eyes. Concern for _him_. With a deep breath, Dean blurts, “Cas isn’t just my roommate. He’s my boyfriend.” 

_There. Take that._

His father scoffs. “Uh huh.”

Dean, trembling from the effort it took him to say the words, shakes even more at his father’s reaction. “Wh-what do you mean, ‘uh huh’?”

“So you have a ‘boyfriend’ now. When are you gonna stop this shit?”

His jaw drops open. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

His father shakes his head and rolls his eyes like he always does when he thinks Dean is being stupid. “You’re not really a queer, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head slowly, trying to parse out what he just heard. “Wha—”

“You’ve been trying to piss me off for years now, tryin’ to get my attention any way you can like a puppy nippin’ at my heels just to prove you’re your own man, that you’re better than me. Well, you’re not better, and you’re not a man. You’re a follower, always have been. Your generation’s into this whole ‘love who you want’ and ‘everyone has rights’ shit, so you figured it was a good way to rebel and get yourself a bunch of people to follow while you were at it. So you went out, got yourself some fairies to hang out with, and decided you’re ‘bisexual,’ like that’s even a real thing. It’s ridiculous. I thought you'd grow up and drop the bullshit once you got to college. Guess that didn’t happen. But you know what, Dean? This is gonna be just like the tattoo you gave yourself when you were sixteen that you thought was so cool. It wasn’t, and this isn’t. You’re gonna leave school soon and get into the real world, and you’re gonna realize how stupid you were. You’re gonna wake up, get yourself a job and a girl, and be a real man and forget all this ‘bisexual’ nonsense. You’re gonna get your priorities straight and find someone who will stand behind you, not someone to hide behind.”

Dean feels himself swaying, and it’s only Cas, suddenly by his side, that steadies him. He grabs Cas’ hand, gripping it tightly. “My _priorities_ are the only _straight_ thing about me,” he retorts. “And my priorities are Cas and my education.”

“Your _priorities_ are screwed up. C’mon, Dean. You’re almost 22 years old. You need to use the brain God gave you and _think_. Why can’t you be more like Sam? Or like Vaughn here? Maybe you’re looking up to the wrong roommate.”

Dean freezes. Even when he stands up for himself, his father doesn’t hear him, only tells him to be someone else. He’s a ghost, fucking invisible, and he’s tired of being walked through by his father, and Vaughn, and the other small-minded assholes in his life. “No. Fuck you. I’m sick of your shit.”

“Stand down, son.”

“No!”

His father stiffens, then scowls. “You’d better watch yourself, Dean. You’re starting to make me unhappy.”

“Watch myself? Or what? You’ll take away my birthday? Thanks for making it a great one, by the way.”

“You think you’re all big and bad now? Think you’re growing a backbone ‘cause you have your little ‘boyfriend’ to hide behind?”

“I don’t hide behind him!”

“Then what’s he doing here _holding your goddamn hand_ when this is between us?”

“He’s standing by me, being supportive! Why don’t you try it sometime?”

“Watch your—”

To Dean’s utter shock, Vaughn steps in. “John, sir, I know your son has said some things, and it’s...a lot, and you might feel disappointed. But I want to assure you it’s not true.” 

Dean stares at him, befuddled. “What the fuck—”

“I’m saying this for your own good,” Vaughn says with a sympathetic air before he shifts his attention back to John Winchester. “Dean really is a good person, a good man who knows the right path and can and will make good choices in life. He’s just been...manipulated. Led astray.”

Dean’s gut clenches like he’s been struck. Next to him, Cas stills.

“Our roommate doesn’t get along with people who don’t agree with him, like you and me. He’s said himself that he’s not good at keeping people around, and he’s so... _him_ that it doesn’t surprise me. So when Castiel decided he didn’t want me here, Dean went along with whatever he said because he likes to please people.”

“Uh huh. And that means?”

“They’re just pretending to be a couple to get rid of me, sir.”

It’s chaos after that. There are their friends and Sam, panicked. There are his mother and Ellen, confused. There’s his father, smug that his son has proven himself a chump once again, and Vaughn, smug that he won. _He won_. But he _can’t_. How can he win? That’s not what was supposed to happen! They were supposed to push Vaughn out with their glorious displays of gayness! And now, somehow, Dean’s screwed it up. It had to be him. He complained too loudly, or talked to someone he wasn’t supposed to, or tried too hard to be nice when they should’ve gone for option L. _Fuck_. 

He doesn’t believe a word of what Vaughn’s spewing about Cas manipulating him. He _is_ afraid that he’s ruined things with Cas now, though. If Cas had been having feelings for him, well, tonight’s shitshow is gonna change his mind. Why would he want to be part of this craziness?

Dean finally dares to look at Cas. Cas is chewing on his bottom lip and twisting his mouth this way and that. He’s still holding his hand, though, so he hopes that means Cas will forgive him and that he’ll come up with something brilliant like he always does to save them, to save the plan.

But instead, Cas lets go of his hand and says, “It’s true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic language/slurs/attitudes
> 
> Well, you were suspicious for good reasons, obviously. 
> 
> So, thoughts? A lot happened in this one.
> 
> If you are interested in the gifts Cas gave Dean, you can find them here:
> 
> [100 Things To Do Poster](https://www.uncommongoods.com/product/100-things-to-do-scratch-off-poster?clickid=yoiQdyzAjxyJU8V08lQuCVrSUkn1l0RZWwIG3U0&irgwc=1&utm_source=Skimbit%20Ltd.&utm_medium=affiliates&utm_campaign=8444&utm_term=Online%20Tracking%20Link&trafficSource=Impact&sharedid=dodoburd.com#482880000000) (I bought this one for a dear friend and she loved it)
> 
> [Science of Cooking book](https://www.amazon.com/dp/1465463690/?tag=dodoburd511-20)
> 
> Also, my apologies to the poor American astronauts whose names are used for comedic effect.


	16. The Best Laid Plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ve waiting a whole week, anger and confusion simmering under your skin, to find out what happens next. Here you go. 😘

The thing about bullies and narcissists is that they always think they’re right.

And in this case, Vaughn Reynolds is right.

But not really.

“We have been pretending to date,” Cas reiterates to their stunned guests (and smug roommate). 

“Why?” Dean’s mother asks.

“Because we were hoping to create an intolerable situation for our roommate, since he had created an intolerable situation for us.”

“What kind of intolerable situation?”

“Bigotry, homophobia, that sort of thing.”

Vaughn huffs. “That is not—”

“He’s selfish, egotistical, and feels completely justified in everything he does. He’s tried to use our weaknesses against us, he has said and done horrible things that _no one_ should have to tolerate, and he’s done it all because he’s afraid.”

“I’m not—”

Cas turns toward their roommate. “Oh, you are. You are a fearful, lonely thing who has to put others down to bring himself up, just like your little hero, and I am done with you. Dean and I live here and deserve to be here, without harassment, whether you like it or not. So yes, I admit we were pretending to date, and that it was my idea. However...” He drifts to the window, watching as snow begins to collect on the grass below. 

His audience waits with bated breath.

Dean steps to his side. “Cas?”

Subtly, without anyone seeing, he winks at Dean, then says to the room, “Just because we were pretending to date doesn’t mean I don’t want to date him.”

Squeals, gasps, and groans fill the room. 

“No. No, no, no, this is them _lying_ again to push me out—”

“Oh, shut it, Vaughn. You know the real issue isn’t the lying, it’s that you’re feeling threatened because they’re not in the wrong here. You are.”

Cas and Dean watch, wide-eyed, as the attention shifts from them to Ethan and Vaughn.

“What? No! Why are you defending—”

“You’ve been nothing but an ass to them, and nothing but an ass to anyone who gets in your way or doesn’t see things your way. But I’ve had enough. I’ve figured you out, finally. Maybe they tried to push you out, but you know what? You’re just as guilty. You’ve been trying to push them out, too—”

“I have not!”

“Yes, you have! You said you’ve played ‘harmless’ pranks on them, or you’ve ‘gotten them back’ for things they’ve allegedly done to you or you ‘found out’ they were going to do. You said they were the ones doing you wrong and you were just defending yourself. But that’s not true, is it?”

“I—”

“I couldn’t figure out why I never saw them the way you did, why I never saw them being nasty to you, like you said they were. You just don’t like them, do you? You don’t like them, so you’ve been doing whatever you have to do to get rid of them. It’s what you do to everyone.”

“No I—”

“Cas warned me about you. So we talked, Vaughn. Me and some of our other friends. You know, like Zack? And some of the girls? Even Isaiah had a few things to say.”

“You fucking—”

“And I found out a lot of shit—what you’ve said about me, other shit you’ve said about your roommates, and shit you’ve done to try to get information on them. And tonight I found out just how low you’d go. Maybe they lied, but you’re the problem.”

“You don’t—”

“I really can’t believe how low you’ve stooped. Finding Dean’s father and inviting him here was the final push, wasn’t it?”

“You are a—”

“Yeah, it was. Fuck, you didn’t just want them out. You wanted to tear them apart. And you _failed._ Look at them! They’re gonna date for real now! That blew up in your face, man.”

Folding his arms, Vaughn hisses, “If you’re not with me, you’re against me. You’re really gonna throw away years of friendship for _that_? For _them_?”

“Yeah, I am. ‘Cause I’ve grown up over our college years, Vaughn, especially this year, and I’ve had it with your closed-minded, holier-than-thou shit. I’m not the naïve kid I was when I got here. Hell, I can’t believe I was _ever_ friends with you. My 7-year-old brother treats people better than you do.”

Vaughn is fuming now, his face flaming red. “Get out.”

“Gladly.”

Ethan turns, but Cas stops him. “You can stay on our side as our guest if you want.”

Smiling, Ethan loosens his fists. “Thanks. I think I will.” With a pointed look to Vaughn, he strides to Charlie and Reagan, who both sling their arms around him.

Vaughn switches his attention to John. “See, this is what Castiel does, sir. He turned my friend against me, and he’s been leading your son around—”

“I’m not being led around,” Dean growls through clenched teeth. “I can think for myself and choose for myself. I can date who I want, and I don’t need anyone’s opinions of who I am and who I should be. The only reason this dating thing has been fake is because Cas wanted it to be. But if he wants to date, then fuck yeah, we’re gonna date. So you can deal with it or you can leave.”

Cas smiles at Dean’s speech. He’s not sure if everything Dean said is real, but he’s pretty confident that Dean has learned some things through all this and finally feels strong enough to stand up to his father and the other assholes like him. It might not have gotten rid of Vaughn, but Cas still thinks the mission is a success.

“How dare you, young man,” Mary hisses at Vaughn. “You may not agree with their views or how they live their lives, but that doesn’t give you the right to harass them. And as for you, John, I don’t even know why you bothered showing up. You shouldn’t have come if you couldn’t be supportive of your son!”

John turns to Mary. “Hey, I—”

“All right, I think we’ve had enough drama for one birthday party,” Ellen announces. She’s a lot like Jo; Cas can see where she gets her no-nonsense attitude. “We’re gonna continue our party now, and any of you who wanna be negative can shut your traps.”

John leaves in a snit. Vaughn and Nathan slink to Vaughn’s room. Everyone else squeezes onto Dean and Cas’ side. The air, for a few minutes, is vibrating with tension, nobody quite sure what to do next. Cas eyes Dean, his skin now pale, his body slack. He looks drained. Cas knows the feeling. So he does the only thing he can think of to give his friend some juice.

Dean’s body falls into his arms as soon as he opens them. Cas relishes the feel of his trust, his vulnerability. “Proud of you,” he whispers. He gives him an extra-tight squeeze as he beckons everyone over.

“Group hug!” Charlie shouts, and soon they’re surrounded by their guests. 

When Cas feels Dean smile, he leans back. “Okay?”

Dean nods.

“I think we could have an epic game of Twister, you guys!” Reagan shouts.

They play Twister and Pictionary, eat every snack in their cupboard, and have a great time. The smile stays on Dean’s face, and that joy is all Cas wanted for his friend tonight. 

As he often does when he’s around a lot of people for too long, Cas grows exhausted. Maybe it’s the additional stress they had with Dean’s father and Vaughn’s shit, but he’s headachy and even more tired than usual. He’s grateful when everyone decides to call it a night, and even more grateful that everyone pitches in to clean up before they leave. 

“I’m happy you two are going to give this a real chance,” Mary whispers in his ear.

“Well, I hope it works out for us,” he smiles, not wanting her to get excited just yet. They still have things they need to talk about. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Good night, sweetie.”

He gets much the same message from everyone. His gut twists and his throat starts to hurt. 

When everyone is gone, Cas picks up a couple of things that were missed, then drags himself into their bedroom. Dean is there already, in his bathrobe, towel slung over his shoulder. He must be going to shower. Cas can hardly blame him for wanting to wash this evening off. Maybe it’ll help him feel more relaxed for the talk they really need to have. It can only help, right?

“Hey, nice work, buddy!” Dean whispers, offering his hand for a high five. 

_Buddy._

Cas offered him the out—the wink that told him “this is all part of the plan”—and Dean took it. He’d thought about laying out the truth—his truth, his feelings—in front of everyone, but he didn’t want to pressure Dean, didn’t want to have that sort of talk in front of all those people. Now he’s glad he didn’t, because maybe there isn’t anything to talk about. Maybe everything with Dean’s father was too much, making him think twice about a relationship with a man. Or maybe Dean just doesn’t have feelings for him, as Cas thought he did. Maybe the plan was only ever that—a plan to get rid of their horrible roommate, by whatever means necessary. Maybe his best friend will only ever be his best friend.

His best friend, who shouldn’t have to tolerate one more asshole in his life. 

With Vaughn’s purposeful, hurtful ploy in bringing Dean’s father around and all the digs he made at him, getting rid of the guy is more important than ever, whatever happens between him and Dean.

“Thanks,” he says, quirking a tired half-smile as he plays along.

Dean opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something, but smiles and nods instead, then beats a rather hasty retreat.

Cas slides into their bed once Dean leaves to shower. They are “for real” dating now, at least as far as their roommate knows, so he doesn’t split the beds up. 

Said roommate shows up at the bedroom door. “This is all your fault, you know. Everything he’s going through is because of you.”

Cas stares at him, unblinking.

“You think he really wants to date _you_? Please.”

He blinks once, slowly and purposely, as if bored.

“You will not win,” he growls through gritted teeth.

Growing up as the youngest in a family of lawyers gives Cas the balls to say, “I already have. Good night.”

Vaughn turns on his heel with a huff.

While he waits for Dean, Cas sends out what he hopes will be the final nail in Vaughn’s coffin. He hopes Dean isn’t angry. He’ll tell him about it when he comes to bed. Maybe then they can talk about the two of them, too. However Dean feels or whatever he wants to do, it’s time.

* * *

Dean smiles fondly when he comes into their room and sees Cas sleeping, phone loose in his hand and slumped down against his pillow. He loses all of his intensity when he sleeps; his body is lax, his laser eyes are shuttered, and the furrow between his brows is smooth. He’s so in love with him, it’s disgusting.

_Disgusting._ Dean frowns. That’s how his father sees him. No, that’s wrong; he doesn’t _see_ him at all. His father treats him as if he’s an action figure—inanimate, poseable, and completely at the mercy of whatever story his father creates for him. Oh, and easy to stick in the toy box and forget about. Yeah.

Well, no more. It felt scary as hell to stand up for himself, but it felt good, too. He only wishes he’d done it right away, wishes he’d been the one to introduce Cas and that Cas didn’t have to go through that “I’m his other roommate” shit because of his own cowardice. But he thinks he fixed it. Maybe. 

That wink, though. He’s not sure what to make of that. Clearly, in the moment, it was meant to tell him that Cas had a plan in mind, that he should just go with whatever Cas said. It stands to reason, then, that everything Cas said was part of the act, too, including his whole thing about wanting to date him for real. When he tested that theory with his high-five offer, Cas didn’t flinch.

Which means that Dean still doesn’t know where Cas stands for real. Or maybe he does.

Why the hell does this have to be so hard? Why can’t he just _know_ how Cas feels? Or whether things will work out if they take a chance and date?

He supposes this “dating your best friend for real” thing is like skydiving—you might have the most exhilarating experience of your entire life, or you might go splat, but you’ll never know until you step out of the plane. There’s no other option that will give you the answer. Other people can tell you their stories, and you can watch videos about it, or read about it, but those experiences aren’t your experience. Like Cas said, sometimes relationships between best friends work out, and sometimes they don’t. And when they don’t, sometimes they _really_ don’t. He can see why it scares Cas so much. When he thinks about it too hard, it scares him, too. 

The strength of their friendship is sort of like a parachute, though—it’s what’ll keep them grounded. Or get them to the ground. Or something. And as long as it works, they’ll be good. Right? Right.

This whole thing is killing him. All he wants is to be with Cas. But they’ve complicated things so much by doing this fake relationship thing, and all just to get rid of an asshole who doesn’t give two shits about anyone but himself, someone who isn’t going to change. Just like dear old Dad. 

It’s gotta stop somewhere, somehow. Despite the plan still being on, apparently, Dean doubts it’ll really work now. Maybe at the end of the year, when their lease is up, they can look for a new place. Or Vaughn will move out. Or something. Something will change. Something has to change. Or nothing changes.

_Something has to change._

He has to tell him. He’s going to tell him.

It’s his last thought before he falls asleep.

It’s his first thought when he wakes up.

But the thought is quickly pushed from his mind by the shaking of the covers—and it’s not the sexy kind that Dean could get on board with. “Cas?”

“Sorry,” Cas whispers. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Sick.”

“You cold?”

“Freezing.”

Dean props himself on an elbow, then presses his wrist to Cas’ forehead. “You’re warm.”

“Cold.”

“Gonna puke? Shit yourself?”

Cas shakes his head. “Throat hurts. Ears. Head.”

“Mmm. Okay. Probably a cold. Lemme get you something hot to drink. Coffee?”

“Tea.”

“You got it.”

Dean carefully leaves the bed, not wanting to chill Cas further by lifting the blankets too high. He slips out of the bedroom to make the green tea that Cas has been into lately, then slips back in just as quietly, only to find that Cas has fallen asleep again. Dean tucks the blankets around him a little tighter and lets him be.

For most of Sunday, Cas sleeps. When he’s not sleeping, Dean tries to get him to eat, but no luck. He’s not interested in much more than tea, and even that seems to go down with some difficulty.

Monday doesn’t go any better. “You gotta eat, homie,” Dean prods, holding plain toast under his nose.

“Not hungry.”

“Gotta eat something. That sexy bod of yours is gonna wither to nothin’.”

Cas smiles, but it’s half-hearted. Not a good sign.

“Come on, sweetheart. Applesauce?”

“Unh.”

“Soup? Rice?”

“No.”

“Popsicle?”

“Popsicle?” Cas perks up. “We have popsicles?”

“No, but I’ll run out and get some.”

“No...”

“I don’t mind.”

Dean wins the brief argument that ensues, and when he returns with Cas’ icy treats, he uses them to bribe Cas to eat. He gets almost a whole bowl of chicken broth in him before Cas rejects it. The cherry popsicle is eaten completely, or at least until the bottom of it breaks off the stick because he took too long to eat it. He’s asleep by 7:30. Dean is beginning to worry.

On Tuesday, the first day of classes, Cas is up and moving around. It’s a relief to see him upright, but the relief doesn’t last when he sees his face...his drawn, pale face, spots of pink high on his cheeks the only color. He insists he’s fine, but when Dean comes home from classes and work that night, Cas is lying in the fetal position on their loveseat, still fully dressed for the outdoors except for his boots, which are on the floor in front of him. Dean’s heart and gut meet in the middle as one sinks with sadness and the other rises with worry.

Vaughn, sitting on his side of the living room, is completely ignoring Cas and his obvious condition like the asshole he is. “How long’s he been like that?” Dean asks their roommate.

Vaughn shrugs.

“Wow, you’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Dean fumes. He’s had it with playing peacemaker with the guy, a guy who’s been just as horrible to Cas as he’s been to Dean—maybe more, judging by the party night. Dean thinks Cas has tried to shield him. Why the fuck did he ever want to subject Cas to this asshole by making them live with his shit? He shakes his head as he kneels by Cas’ side. 

“Cas? Babe? You okay? Talk to me.”

“Tired. Hurts so bad,” Cas rasps. “Throat’s on fire.”

“Hmm. Sit up, hon. Lemme see your throat.”

“Uh-uh. It’s gross.”

“Like I haven’t seen gross. I’m a bio major. Sit up.”

Cas does, and Dean peers into his throat with a penlight on his keychain. “Ugh, it’s like a petri dish in there, dude. We gotta get you to Health Services.”

“Noooo…don’t wanna go back out.”

“Sorry, but you gotta. It’s bad. Come on.”

Cas huffs, but leans against Dean while Dean puts his boots on his feet. 

Nearly three hours later, they’re back home with Cas’ diagnosis and antibiotics. “No classes tomorrow,” Dean warns him. “Gotta be on the meds twenty-four hours.”

“I have to—”

“Do you wanna infect people with strep throat?”

Cas grunts. 

“I didn’t think so.”

“Gonna sleep out here,” Cas mumbles.

“You’re not sleeping in the living room. Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Move the beds apart. Need to limit your exposure.”

“Nope. Already exposed, so it doesn't matter now. ’Sides, I don’t have my tonsils, and my swab came back clean anyway, so there. The beds are staying together, and I’m gonna sleep next to you and keep you warm.”

“Dean—”

“Shut up.”

Miraculously, Cas shuts up. 

For the next twenty-four hours, Cas continues to shut up while Dean takes care of him. He doesn’t argue with him when he takes the day off his own classes and job, he doesn’t argue when he makes him eat, and he doesn’t argue when Dean makes him a nest of throw blankets on their loveseat while the linens of their beds are in the laundry. When Dean sits on the loveseat with him and pulls him against his chest, Cas does the opposite of arguing—he sighs and sinks into the embrace, wiggling his arms around his back and squeezing until his body falls lax and heavy with sleep.

Dean keeps one hand around Cas’ waist and threads the other through his hair, watching the sweat-soaked strands flop as they settle with each pass (never in the same place). He bends his head awkwardly to press a tender kiss into his wavy locks. “Love you,” he murmurs, completely ignoring Vaughn reading a textbook just a few feet from him. He didn’t say it for Vaughn.

Vaughn walks out anyway, slamming his bedroom door harder than he ever has. It startles Cas awake. “Wha…”

Scowling at Vaughn’s door, Dean mutters, “Fuck if I know.” He turns a softer gaze to Cas. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you comfortable in bed, okay? This damn couch is too small for us.”

“I’m comfy.” He shifts his head around on Dean’s pec, close to his heart.

“Now who’s a cuddle bear?” Dean grins at Cas’ annoyed grunt. The antibiotics are kicking in, Dean hopes. “Sheets are probably dry, so I’ll go get ’em—”

“No. Stay.” He clings tightly to Dean’s shirt. Dean chuckles softly.

“Okay, okay. Give me a minute to throw some blankets over the mattresses, at least, then we’re gonna go to bed. Come with me.”

He realizes they have only one clean blanket and the three small throws from the couch left, and Cas will need them all to stay warm, so he tosses his hands and decides they’re sleeping on the bare mattresses after all. He gets Cas into bed, then climbs in after him. Cas immediately grabs for him. “Thanks, hon,” he mumbles.

Dean doesn’t respond, knowing Cas probably won’t hear it anyway. His breath is already deep and even, and he’s not even sure Cas knew what he was saying. He smiles and kisses the top of his head once more. _Tomorrow._ _I’ll fix all this tomorrow. And if he’s feeling better, I’ll tell him how I feel._ He glances at the clock. 11:05. Tomorrow is his birthday. What a hell of a present it would be if Cas gave him his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi, those verbal beatdowns! Yet our boys are still being ridiculous, and Vaughn is STILL THERE. Will they ever get rid of him? Will Cas and Dean ever TALK? What did Cas do? Find out next time. 😘


	17. Unraveled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondered what Cas did in the last chapter? You're about to get the answer...and maybe the answer to another burning question you've had.

It’s Cas who wakes in Dean’s arms in the morning, and all he can think is:

“It’s fucking _hot_ in here, holy shit!”

He whips the covers up and down, cooling his overheated body. Of course, he also wakes Dean.

“Dude, my alarm wasn’t going off for another”—he checks his phone—“twenty minutes.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m dying. For fuck’s sake, it must be eight million degrees in here.”

Dean eyes him with a look of wry amusement. “Feeling better?”

Cas stops flapping the covers and swallows. “Not bad. Not fantastic, but definitely improved.”

“You got enough energy to bitch, so you’re clearly better.”

Flipping him off, Cas tosses the covers aside and sets his feet onto the floor. “Gotta get my shit together. Long fucking day ahead, lot of catching up.”

“Go shower. I’ll make breakfast for you.”

“No, I can—”

“Shut up, I'm making breakfast.”

With a smirk, Cas remarks, “Bossy.” 

“You’re one to talk.”

“True,” Cas says, shrugging.

Dean makes him breakfast _and_ packs him lunch, which really isn’t right. He should be doing nice things for Dean. “It’s _your_ birthday,” he complains as Dean hands him his bags and a travel cup of green tea.

“You threw me a party.”

“I threw you a shitshow.”

Dean crosses his arms. “Dude.”

“Fine,” Cas acquiesces to Dean’s one-syllable argument. “Still—”

“Hey, I’ll have plenty more. You can make me breakfast next time, or my favorite dinner, whatever. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

They smile at each other, eyes roaming. Cas’ arms twitch, already missing what they had all night long. He wants to kiss him, wants to take him back to their bedroom and...oh, he’s definitely feeling better. He sighs and clears his throat. “Thank—”

Vaughn emerges from his room, snarling and slamming things around. He gives Cas the dirtiest look he’s ever gotten from the guy. Cas wonders what crawled up his ass and died, but doesn’t waste a lot of brainpower on it, returning his attention to the focus of most of his brainpower these days. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he says to Dean.

“No problem. You know that. Remember when I got mono?”

“Fuck, yeah. You were so sick.”

“And you took great care of me.” Dean slides his hands around Cas’ waist. 

Cas’ arms immediately lock around him and fold him into a hug, happy to be filled once again. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he murmurs over his shoulder.

“And this wasn’t a big deal, either. It’s what you do for—um, it’s what you do, you know?”

Chewing his lip, Cas holds him a little tighter. “Yeah.” He leans back to look at Dean properly. “Happy birthday.”

Dean smiles, a wide, soft thing that melts Cas’ heart on sight. “Thanks.” His eyes are warm, as warm as the hand he lifts to massage the stiff muscles in Cas’ neck. “You make sure to drink your fluids and rest when you can. Don’t overdo it, okay? Promise me.”

“I pr—”

Vaughn bumps Cas roughly from behind as he passes. Cas is guessing it was on purpose, but has no idea why. 

Well, maybe one idea.

Cas scowls at Vaughn’s back. He swallows—still very little pain, thankfully—and steps away, hoping his eye roll and his smile are enough to erase the concern on Dean’s face. “Promise. Gotta go. See you later tonight.”

“Yeah, okay. See you then.”

He checks his e-mail on his way to class. When he sees the response he was waiting for, his sigh is both pleased and worried. He wonders if Vaughn knows about this. It would explain his behavior.

Either way, what’s done is done (and will be done). It’ll either make Dean’s birthday...or ruin it.

Again.

* * *

There are raised voices coming from their apartment. Cas opens the door quietly; as the youngest of his siblings, he’s used to being sneaky. He listens.

“...can’t believe this!”

“Vaughn—”

“This is a setup! All of it!”

_So he does know about it._ _Shit_. His meeting was meant to be with the landlords alone, but it seems they had other plans. 

_Be nice. Be NICE._ Cas channels his inner Dean and swings the door open wide.

“You!” Vaughn screams, the venom in his tone startling Cas. He blinks.

“Vaughn,” Jilly pleads, standing up.

Not acknowledging her, Vaughn continues, “You had _no right_ to go to my aunt and uncle and _lie_ about me, you manipulative jerk!”

“We didn’t even tell you—”

“I didn’t go to your aunt and uncle. I went to my landlords.”

“Same thing!”

Cas raises his brows. “What did I say that wasn’t true?”

“You—you’ve ruined things for Dean now, you know that, right?”

“I think I’ve improved things, actually.”

“Oh yeah? Bet he won’t think that. Bet he’s gonna be pissed at you, probably hate you and ditch your ass like you deserve—”

“Where the hell do you get off, sayin’ that to someone? Sit your ass down!” Harry bellows to his nephew. 

“I will not!”

While uncle and nephew have a power battle, Cas sighs and sits. His gaze floats to Jilly’s pinched face. “I’m sorry about all this,” he says. 

Her face smooths. “It’s not you,” she sighs in response. 

“I really didn’t want it to come to this.”

“Neither did I. But for once, maybe Harry was right.”

“I won’t tell him.” He sends Jilly an easy, teasing smile and a wink. Despite the war being waged before them, she chuckles. Seems like he can be charming, too, when he puts his mind to it. Dean would be proud.

Vaughn peers around his uncle and growls at Cas, “You have _ruined_ my senior year!”

Cas frowns. “I’ve ruined your senior year?”

“ _Y_ _es!_ ”

“Well, try as you might, you haven’t ruined mine. Made it considerably more unpleasant and made Dean’s even more so, yes. To which I take extreme offense, by the way.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about your offense! This is all your fault! You’re an _asshole_ , nothing but a dirty, _corrupting_ piece of shit on the bottom of my shoe!” 

The yelling stops as their door swings open once again. Dean steps in, looking utterly bewildered and nervous. When he sees Cas, those emotions seem to intensify. Cas rushes to him.

“It’s okay,” he soothes him.

Dean’s eyes dart from person to person, eventually landing on Cas again. “Shit. I’m sorry, Cas—”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.”

“This is my fault—”

“It’s not your fault, Dean.”

“Yes, it is!”

“No,” Cas attempts to calm him. He squeezes his biceps through his coat. “Jilly and Harry are here because of me.”

“No, they’re here because of _me_ ,” he wails. “I e-mailed them.”

Confused, Cas says, “ _I_ e-mailed them.”

“You _both_ e-mailed us,” Jilly says. “And that’s why we’re here.”

* * *

Dean was hoping that he could meet with Jilly and Harry at the office, but they said they wanted to meet at the apartment. He’d been nervous about that, but the time they agreed on was before either of his roommates were supposed to get home, so he hoped that would give them time to talk privately.

Instead, he came home to Vaughn yelling at Cas.

It pissed him off and broke his heart all at once. He’d just wanted to make things better for Cas. That’s why he e-mailed Jilly and Harry this morning. Instead, he made things so much worse.

Except that Cas e-mailed them, too, apparently. 

“You e-mailed them?” he asks, despite both Cas and Jilly confirming it.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Cas shakes his head, gazing at him with those soft blue eyes that make Dean ache for him. “I couldn’t stand to see you hurt anymore over a stupid apartment. I’m sorry to do this behind your back, but it needed to be done. We’ll figure all this out. We’ll find a way. Okay?”

Dean nods.

“Why did you e-mail them?”

“Same, Cas. I...I know you’ve put up with a lot because of me, and—”

“No.”

“Yes. And I needed to do something about it. So—”

“Come over and sit,” Harry interrupts, waving them over. 

Dean and Cas’ hands, having found their way to each other’s shoulders, drop as they turn toward Harry. They sit beside one another at Vaughn’s kitchen table, unused except as a catch-all for Amazon and pizza boxes that have been shoved over.

“I’m not sitting,” Vaughn huffs.

“Fine, stand,” Harry dismisses him. “So yes, we got some e-mails about this situation you’ve had here.”

“Did they tell you how much _I’ve_ had to put up with, or was that conveniently left out?”

“Vaughn, be quiet a minute. You don’t even know what was in those e-mails.”

Vaughn folds his arms and scowls.

“Now we’ve met with you boys a few times, always tryin’ to get you guys to work things out. But clearly, it’s not workin’. The situation has become too tough for you all. We considered all the options you fellas presented to us, but none of ’em felt quite right. So, ultimately, we had to make the decision we thought was best. Dean and Castiel…”

Dean closes his eyes. _Of course we’re getting screwed._

“...we want you to stay. Vaughn, you need to go.”

_We’re not getting screwed?_ His eyes pop open.

“ _What?_ ” Vaughn screams.

“You need to go.”

“No! I’m not the one in the wrong here!”

Dean, amazed by this awesome turn of events, stretches his hand to Cas’ and grabs it, if only to make sure he’s not dreaming. Cas squeezes his fingers. Not a dream.

“Well, we believe you are. We’ll give you until Saturday. We’ll let you borrow the truck to move your stuff if you need to.”

“That’s two days! I can’t believe you’re doing this to me! How could you turn me out? I’m your flesh and blood! You’ve got this all wrong! How could you believe these—these _deviants_ over me?”

“Vaughn Marshall! I know your mother raised you better than that!” Jilly shouts, abandoning her usual placating ways. “For crying out loud, your own father—”

“Shut up, shut _up_! I don’t wanna hear about him!”

Jilly eyes him shrewdly. “Is all this business about him? Are you still upset about that?”

“He is a _puppet_ who _left us_!”

“He left the marriage—”

“And that was okay with you? That he left to fuck and marry his best friend? The guy I called my _uncle_?”

Dean flicks wide eyes toward Cas and sees the same wide-eyed look sent back to him.

“Vaughn,” Jilly sighs, “we’ve explained this—”

“No. No. Grampa says it’s wrong. Man shall not lie with man. Men aren’t supposed to fall in love with each other! It’s unnatural!”

“Men can and do sometimes,” his aunt tells him gently, “and they did, and your mother knew and accepted—”

“No. Fuck that, and fuck all of you.” Vaughn points an angry finger at all of them. “You're not getting rid of me. I will see you in _court_ for this!”

“I don’t think you want to do that,” Jilly warns him. “I think you want to leave quietly, or else these boys might sue _you_ for any number of civil rights issues, not to mention that _we’ll_ sue you for all the back rent you owe that we’ve been sending you messages about. Now, you’re hoping to run for public office someday. I’m guessing you don’t want either of those in your background, do you?”

That shuts him up, if briefly. Dean watches his roommate try desperately to collect himself, probably for his next attack. 

“And if you stay,” Cas says, “you’re going to have to live with two men who are dating and in love and definitely ‘lying down’ vigorously and often, whether you believe that or not.”

Dean got hopeful for a second with the “in love” bit, but then realized the rest was part of the story—although it is partially true, even if Cas doesn’t know it yet.

Vaughn’s eyes flick between the two of them. He huffs, deep and angry. “Fine. Whatever. It’s a shitty apartment with shitty roommates—especially you,” he sneers at Cas. “Enjoy your sodomy now, because you’ll be truly fucked in hell.”

The four of them sit in silence while Vaughn makes a phone call and gathers a bag. Dean figures it’s Nathan on the line; as far as Dean can tell, he’s lost most of his other friends. Vaughn’s cursing Cas to hell every other sentence. Dean doesn’t understand the degree of anger he has toward Cas right now. After all, Dean also wrote an e-mail to the landlords. 

When he’s gone, there’s a collective sigh of relief. Cas, good host that he is, gets up and roots around the fridge for some food and drinks for everyone. Dean gets up and helps him. Despite the exhaustion lining his face, Cas looks good. Maybe it’s the light, maybe it’s residual adrenaline, or maybe it’s the way Dean is imagining them together, just like this in their kitchen. Entertaining friends. Sneaking a moment when no one’s looking. Hands brushing. Lips brushing. _Stop it_ , he scolds his brain like a cat who keeps climbing the curtains. _This could all disappear as soon as Vaughn does._ Yet just like a cat, his brain couldn’t care less what he has to say and keeps doing what it wants.

_Fuck, what a day_.

They set the food and drinks down and sit once more. Dean wonders what happens now—with their landlords, the apartment, Vaughn. With Cas.

“Well, we’re sorry about how that went,” Jilly says. “That was...unexpected.”

“Not so much for us,” Cas tells her with a reluctant twist of his lips. 

“I had no idea until all the e-mails and phone messages what he was doing to you.”

Dean’s brow furrows. “ _All_ the e-mails and phone messages? I thought just Cas and I e-mailed you?” 

“Oh, no,” Harry says. “We heard from several of ya. Something big must’ve happened over the weekend, ’cause it seems everyone had something to say.”

“We got yours first, Castiel,” Jilly continues the story. “What you said was happening was truly upsetting, but you were so kind and sensitive and just wanted to make things right as peaceably as possible, and I appreciate that. Meanwhile, Dean, you were a pistol, spouting off about lawyers and such.”

Dean and Cas’ eyes meet. _Role reversal_ , Dean thinks. He’s guessing, by Cas’ smirk, that he’s thinking the same thing.

“The girls downstairs wrote to us. Your mother called, Dean, and some boy named Ethan called. I tell you, it was a hell of a thing to come back home to after a nice vacation.”

Dean cringes. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. We figured it had to be pretty serious if so many people were reaching out. So we talked to everyone, and after that, we looked into your ideas.”

Again, the friends look at each other. Dean knows what his idea was. He raises his brows.

“I suggested they find us another apartment at this or one of their other properties,” Cas answers Dean’s silent question, “or, barring that, they allowed us to use the model apartment until the semester ends.”

_Oh._ Dean had never thought of the model apartment. “Um, well, I suggested they have Dou—uh, Vaughn move down to Jo and Charlie’s apartment, and the ladies could move into the other bedroom here. I checked with them, and they were okay with it.”

Cas frowns thoughtfully. “Huh. I can’t believe we never thought of that. They were okay with it?”

“Yup,” Harry answers for Dean. “Even told us that. But me an’ Jilly, we thought it wasn’t right to make you all move around when the problem was Vaughn.”

Dean releases a long, low breath that feels like it’s been stuck in his lungs since they moved in. _Finally_ , someone who could do something about the situation recognized and validated them. He thinks that maybe they should have gone to Harry and Jilly a lot sooner, or at least not tried to handle this completely on their own. He wonders what would’ve happened if they did—not just with the Vaughn situation, but their situation, too. 

Can’t change the past, Dean figures, so he focuses on his questions about the present and immediate future—how Vaughn will get his things out of here, what happens if he doesn’t, when will the rent go up. What will happen with Cas. And one other, burning question:

“What happened with Vaughn’s dad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ding, dong, the witch is dead...I mean, moving out...


	18. Men in Love

“That’s the story,” Jilly finishes.

According to Jilly, Vaughn’s mom and dad were great friends, meeting in college in a math class. That’s also where his dad met his other best friend, the guy he thought he only had a strong friendship with for some time. “Chip was pretty deep in the closet,” she said of her ex-brother-in-law. Eventually his mom guessed it, but his dad still wanted to marry her because he loved her and believed he would “get over” his friend. They married and had a pretty happy life, as close as they were, but “it went sexless pretty fast,” she explained, a detail Cas could’ve guessed at without really needing it confirmed. The best friend stayed in their lives, and Vaughn’s mom could see them falling in love. When the friend became seriously ill, she sat her husband down. “She told him life is short, and that they should have the happiness together that they can.” He went to him, they were happy, and his mom filed for divorce. 

Cas wipes tears from his eyes and notices Dean is doing the same.

“Your sister is friggin’ amazing,” Dean says. 

“What a loving thing she did,” Cas adds.

“It was. She figured they all deserved to have the lives they wanted. Vaughn didn’t understand, though.”

“I guess that might be tough for a kid to take,” Dean concedes.

“Yes. He had a tough time. I thought he would adjust eventually, like most kids do when their parents split, but I guess I should’ve known. He’s always been different, a lot like his grandfather—strong-headed and always thought he was right, you know?—and he spent a lot of time with him after Chip left. I thought he’d be able to see past his grandpa’s bigotry. I hoped, anyway. Wanted to believe the best about him.”

“He’s always been kind of a jerk, Jilly, even before all that.”

“I know. And there’s no excuse for what he did.” She shakes her head. 

He pats her hand, then turns to Cas and Dean. “They love that kid, though. Both of them. Chip’s husband, too. Tried everything they could. Still do. But Vaughn...I don’t know.”

“I have to talk to my sister about this.”

They sigh. Cas is moved by their struggle and their compassion. “We appreciate you going to bat for us,” he says.

Harry waves his hand. “Eh, you know, like we said. It was the right thing to do. You boys have been great tenants. We’re happy to have you. Nice to see that you boys are happy together, too.”

“Not that we’re surprised,” Jilly smiles. “You’re adorable. I don’t know how Vaughn has made it this far livin’ with you all if he couldn’t stand to see two men together and happy to be so.”

Cas hesitates. Does he keep up the ruse now that Vaughn’s leaving? Probably better to play it safe. They want to keep them on their side. “He didn’t believe we were dating,” Cas shrugs. 

Next to him, Dean gasps quietly.

Cas turns. “Something wrong?”

“No, uh, just remembered something, that’s all.” He swipes an arm in the air. “Carry on, carry on.”

“Oookay.” Cas arches a brow at him before shifting his attention back to their landlords. “Well, anyway, thank you so much. We do appreciate it.”

“Happy to help,” Harry says. “Well, we’ll leave you to it. You boys okay with us coming to change the locks on Saturday?”

They nod their assent. Jilly and Harry talk to them about a few more details, then head out for the evening.

Once they’re gone, Cas checks the time. “Um, wow, it’s almost 8:30 and we’ve done nothing for your birthday. Do you want to?”

Dean chuckles. “Buddy, I got all the birthday I could stand today.”

Cas smiles fondly at his friend, who’s resting his head on his folded arms. The conflict has worn him out, Cas is sure, as has the caregiving he’s done for the past few days. Cas is feeling worn out himself, between his illness and everything that just went down. “Well, seems to me you got the best birthday gift you ever could.”

There’s a pause before Dean replies, “Second best.”

“Hmm. I suppose a birthday orgy might be better. Maybe next year.”

Dean huffs a half-hearted laugh. Cas frowns. Usually, he’d be playing along with Cas’ joke, maybe making the guest list or discussing safewords. Tonight, not so much. He must be exhausted.

“Hey. Go get some sleep.”

“Dude, it’s not even 9:00.”

“Well, you’re older now, so…”

“Shut up.” Dean darts an arm out, blindly swatting toward him. He misses by a mile.

“That was a pathetic attempt. Bed. Go.”

Dean grumbles but complies.

_Tomorrow_ , Cas thinks. _I’ll talk to him tomorrow._

* * *

Tomorrow comes, and Cas doesn’t talk to Dean because Vaughn is back at the apartment to pack and bitch and generally make their lives miserable.

Saturday comes, and Cas doesn’t talk to Dean because that’s move out day, and the asshole doesn’t get the last of his shit until 11:45 at night, just to be a dick.

Sunday comes, and Cas doesn’t talk to Dean because they sleep in late, then they have errands to run.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday come, and Cas doesn’t talk to Dean because their schedules are crazy.

Friday comes, and Cas doesn’t talk to Dean because they’re too busy rearranging the apartment, both of them finally confident enough that Vaughn isn’t coming back. They don’t touch their shared bedroom at all, leaving it for last and then being too tired to bother. That’s what Cas tells Dean, anyway, and Dean doesn’t argue. 

Saturday comes, and Cas chickens out.

“He hasn’t said anything,” Cas confides in his siblings over video chat. “Not a word. And he calls me ‘buddy’ and we’re doing all the same shit we’ve always done, you know? It’s like nothing’s changed.”

“Maybe it’s like nothing’s changed because you’ve always had those feelings there,” Hannah reasons. “If they’ve always been there, there’s no reason why anything would change.”

“Maybe, but...but what if I’m wrong? What if this is all he’s ever wanted? Just our friendship? Which is great, don’t get me wrong, but...”

“But it’s not enough,” his brother finishes.

“It should be, though, Gabe. It should be enough.”

“Man, it’s not going to feel like enough if you’re in love. It’s gonna feel...less than, or something, I dunno.”

“It’s going to feel like it has since you started falling for him, Castiel.”

“Yeah, but Hann, it’s...it’s harder.”

“Maybe that’s because you had a taste, dude,” Gabe interjects. “Now you know what it’s like to have him as a boyfriend. You didn’t know before you guys did this whole thing you did.”

Cas exhales harshly. It’s all so much. “What do I do?”

“Tell him.”

“Talk to him, Castiel.”

_Easy for them to say_ , Cas thinks. They don’t know Dean that well, don’t know how he might react or what his feelings might be. He makes another call.

“You bloody twit. I fully expected you two to be planning your wedding as soon as Vaughn left.”

“Bal.”

“I mean, he made you break your own rule.”

“Well, it was fake—”

“Oh, please. It certainly wasn’t fake on your part.”

“Yeah.” Cas ruffles his hair roughly. 

“And if you think it was fake for him, there’s no hope for you.”

“But how do I know for sure? What if I’m wrong?”

“You’re ridiculous, love. Do you make all your fake-relationships-you-want-to-be-real-relationships this complicated?”

Cas huffs. “Shut up. Seriously. Maybe I should leave it alone. I could blow this whole thing. I don’t want to lose his friendship.”

“Back to that argument, hmm?”

“Bal…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. It’s a weak argument, and he knows it.

“You’re willing to lose the chance to have more with him? Seems like that would be worse, to me.”

Cas runs a hand down his tired face. He always thought it would be worse to lose his friendship, but now...well, now that doesn’t seem as important as what he’d be losing by _not_ at least trying to see if a relationship could work. 

“I suppose you could just go back to having sex with bunches of people and stop complicating your life. I’ll volunteer to help.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Just trying to be a good friend, Cassie.”

He’s always thought Bal would be down to fuck if given the chance, but he also knows his friend loves him and wants him to be happy. “Tell me what to do.”

“Talk to him. You love him, Castiel. And I think you know he loves you. You’re still scared this won’t work out, and I’m guessing he is, too, thus all that ‘buddy’ business. But how could the two of you not work out? I mean, really?” 

Bal is right. He knows he is. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Tomorrow.”

Sunday comes, and Cas perches on the arm of the loveseat, where Dean is studying. _I love him. He probably loves me. Okay._

“Dean?”

* * *

Dean has been a nervous wreck for the past week-and-a-half. 

Cas hadn’t brought up anything about the two of them, and the more time passed, the more he thought maybe he wasn’t going to. Dean could’ve done it himself, but he was, frankly, terrified. The stakes were so high. 

But now, it looks like the moment is here. 

“Yeah?”

“I, uh...just wanted to see how it feels to study now that Vaughn isn’t breathing down your neck. Must be good to have space.”

_Oh_. That’s definitely not the conversation he expected to have. In fact, they’ve already had this conversation, in one form or another— _Meals are so much more peaceful, Look at how clean the apartment is, Doesn’t it feel good to be able to relax because we know he isn’t coming through the door?_ It’s pretty safe to say that they’re happy that Vaughn is gone. It almost goes without saying, really.

But they keep saying it anyway.

Maybe they don’t know what else to say.

What Dean knows he should say— _You looked so good when we ate by candlelight_ and _Now we can’t bitch about the clutter while we do the dishes_ _together_ and _I miss relaxing in your arms, I miss kissing you, I miss what we had, I almost want him back just so I can have you the way I got to have you for a little while, he left because I love you, I love you_ —never comes from his mouth. He wants it to. But he can’t put it back once it does. 

It felt so easy when there was little chance he’d actually have to say it. But now, it doesn’t feel so easy. It’s the most important thing he’s ever had to say so far in his life. How do people do this being-a-grownup thing?

“Um, it’s good. Definitely nice not to have his musk surrounding me,” he answers.

Cas snorts.

Dean smiles crookedly.

It doesn’t last long enough.

“Uh…” Cas looks away. Exhales. Turns to him again. “I was thinking...we should, uh, decide what we do next.”

Dean’s blood races painfully through his veins as his heart pounds. “Uh, about...?”

Cas waggles a finger between them. 

There’s _so much spit_ in his mouth all of a sudden. He swallows, then swallows again. “Uh, yeah, what about…” He can’t even finish the sentence, just in case he’s wrong, so he waggles his finger between them as Cas did.

“Well.” He clears his throat, but doesn’t speak right away. Dean follows every tiny movement of his face, attempting to translate them. “People think we’re ‘for real’ dating. The landlords, our families, everyone at the party. You know.”

Dean nods. He berates himself for being a fucking coward and making Cas do all the talking, but he can barely breathe, let alone talk.

“So, um, I guess we need to figure out what we say from here, where we go with...it.”

_Where we go with it. The story._ Dean’s mind flips back to Christmas, when Sam warned him that it would get to this:

_“I mean, you didn’t think about the breakup.”_

_“What’re you gonna do when your roommate’s gone? Keep fake dating?”_

_“You’re not just friends, Dean. You love him. If you guys don’t figure this out, it’s gonna be hard on you.”_

He hates that his brother was right. 

“Um, yeah. Where we go with it.” Dean’s chin tilts toward the floor. He can’t look at Cas right now. “Uh, any ideas?”

He hears Cas take a deep breath and release it. “Well, the way I see it, we have three options.”

Cas pauses. Dean stares at a yellow strand in the rug.

“Option A, we break up now. We say that not having Vaughn here anymore as a diversion exposed our own problems.”

Dean nods.

“Option B, we break up over the summer. We say we gave it a good run, but it didn’t work out.”

“’Kay.” Even the single syllable is difficult to say.

“Option C, we fall in love.”

Dean whips his head up, his eyes locking into Cas’. 

“We fall in love,” Cas repeats, a tremor in his voice, “date for real, graduate. We go to grad school, get jobs. Get a bigger place, maybe. And maybe, if option C is going well, we consider...more options.”

Dean’s mouth hangs open, hardly believing what he’s hearing.

Rubbing his hands together and dropping his gaze, Cas continues hurriedly, “Uh, I think the problem with option A is that we’ll still want to live together, and with how close we are, people would expect a breakup between us to be devastating and it wouldn’t make sense that we would still want to live together, so. Um, with option B I think it would be the same, you know, and if we stay here for grad school then, you know, it probably wouldn’t work. So those are probably not great. As for option C, I think that’s the most believable. And, besides that, I...I’ve already gotten started on it.” He exhales shakily, then raises his eyes to Dean’s once again. “So.” He shrugs.

The book falls noisily from Dean’s hands, but they both ignore it. Dean unfolds his legs and rises, then slowly takes three short steps that feel much too long to stand in front of Cas. “Well,” he croaks. He can’t get enough saliva to speak now. He licks his lips. “Uh, it seems like you’ve considered all our options carefully.”

“I have.”

“And you’ve presented good arguments.”

“Thank you.”

“And, uh, I’ve considered the options you’ve presented”—he helplessly cracks a wide, open-mouthed smile and a short laugh that Cas matches before he clears his throat and forces himself to return to his serious demeanor—“and I’ve made my decision.”

“Mmmhmm.” Cas is still smiling, now closed-lipped, pressing them together hard enough to turn them white.

“Well, A and B are crap.”

“Yes.”

“And C’s worked out for us pretty well.”

“It has.”

“And I’ve already gotten started on option C myself, so...plus, you know, C is for Cas, and Cas is the only option I ever want, so...I’m gonna have to go with C.” Dean smiles, sticking his tongue through his teeth as he waits for a response.

Cas beams back at him. “Well, with that logic, I guess there should be an option D, too. And I do like me some option D.” He tugs Dean between his legs, close enough for their dicks to brush against each other. 

Neither of them able to feign seriousness any longer, they burst into laughter. Dean gathers Cas in his arms; Cas slinks one arm around his waist and the other behind his neck. They rest their foreheads together. 

“I love you. Have for a while now, Cas,” Dean murmurs. “It’s why Vaughn finally gave up in the end, I think. And why he was so pissed at you.”

“What? Why?”

“I think he overheard me tell you. When you were sick.”

“You didn’t—”

“You were sleeping against me on the loveseat, all cuddled up on me, and I said it. Remember when he slammed the door and woke you? How pissed he was?”

“Ahh,” Cas says. “He never believed us before, but he believed that, I guess.”

“Final straw, maybe. Shook up that worldview of his.”

“Guess so.” Cas rolls his head slowly along Dean’s forehead. “I’ve loved you for a while now, too, Dean. Sorry I—”

“No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You had stuff to work through, and so did I. We needed to get here how we got here, you know?”

Cas nods. 

“So, we’re doin’ this?”

When Cas smiles and nods, so bright and certain, Dean squeezes his eyes shut and hugs him tight. His best friend is now his boyfriend, and it’s all just a little too much happiness for his body to take. He nuzzles into Cas’ hair. Cas presses him closer and clutches his shirt. They stand and hold each other until their breathing is slow and synced.

Dean pulls back, wiping the burning sensation from his eyes. “So, what do you want to do now?”

“What are our options?”

“Uh, well, I could make you dinner, we could go on a date, we could listen to music or watch TV…”

“Option D?” Cas suggests, a twinkle in his eye.

_Hell yes._ “You, um, you sure?”

“Mmm. I'm sure, buddy.”

Dean’s eyes widen at the term, finally realizing how Cas must’ve heard it all this time. “Oh God, that sucks. I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “Never again.”

“Good. Now that we have that resolved, it’s time to put you up against that door for real.”

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you don't like angsty cliffhangers, so I didn't give you an angsty cliffhanger. Happy? 😘
> 
> I hope you all have an awesome week. ❤️


	19. It's Getting Hot in Here (So Take Off All Your Clothes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see by the chapter title and from where we left off last chapter, this chapter is NSFW (or any public place, really, lol...).
> 
> Enjoy!

Being pressed against the door is better than it is in Dean’s fantasies. Cas is so eager, so fucking hot and hard, and all for _him_. 

“Fuckin’ wanted you for so long,” Cas rasps. He sucks at the skin under Dean’s jaw. Dean’s head thumps against the back of the door, giving him space to do whatever the hell he wants. Cas moves all around his neck, heated breath and lips marking him, and all Dean can think is _more_. He’s already ready to burst, and he’s still fully dressed.

“Cas,” he pants. “Fuck, Cas, me too. Every time we...oh God, right there...every time we came in here and we were pretending...ohhhhh, _shit_...every time, I wanted this, you, I... _fuck_!”

Cas is under his shirt, thumbing at his nipple with one hand and biting at the other. “Me too, Dean,” he mouths against his nub.

“But not just thi-i-is,” he stutters as Cas moans with his nipple in his mouth.

“I know,” he whispers. He straightens, hands on the hem of his shirt. “Can I?”

When Dean nods, Cas pushes his Henley up and over his head, then pulls him into a lusty kiss. The zipper of Cas’ sweatshirt scrapes against Dean’s chest, but Dean doesn’t notice the pain of the zipper as much as he notices that he can’t feel Cas’ skin against his. That has to change.

“Off,” he growls, insinuating his hands between them to unzip the offending clothing. He’s wearing nothing beneath it, so Dean is immediately rewarded with warm skin and perked nipples. “Mmm, Cas,” he moans. He pinches the peaks between his fingers and makes his best friend— _boyfriend, fuck_ —gasp. “Yeah, babe. You like that?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he snarls, latching onto Dean’s mouth again as he gives Dean’s nipples the same treatment. Dean whines as he pops onto his tiptoes at the sensation. His nipples have always been particularly sensitive. Cas chuckles darkly. “Like that, babe?”

“Shut up,” he huffs with a smile. Cas smiles, too, and though his assault on his nipples doesn’t abate, his next kiss is softer. 

Dean slips the sweatshirt off Cas’ arms, then lets his hands glide back to his shoulders. He’s always had a thing for Cas’ shoulders. They’re smooth and strong. He kisses one, then runs his lips along it. Cas whimpers. Dean does the same to the other, adding his tongue. Cas’ hands fall away from his chest and land on his hips. He pushes him harder into the door, then latches onto Dean’s neck again before letting his lips trace a path down, down, down.

Through hazy eyes, Dean watches as Cas kneels before him. He flicks shiny, lust-filled eyes up at him. “Can I?” he asks, thumbs now hooked into his pants.

“Fuck yeah, Cas, you can do anything you want, lookin’ at me like that.”

“Good to know,” he chuckles before unceremoniously dragging Dean’s pants and underwear to his ankles. He glances up mischievously, plants his hands back on Dean’s hips, and swallows him down.

Dean nearly falls to the floor.

Cas’ hands pin him in place, which is the only thing keeping him from sliding onto his ass. He’s shaking and hot, scraping his nails against the door. Now that he’s finally getting some relief after the world’s longest unintentional edging session, he knows it’ll take way too little for him to come undone. “Cas, please,” he sobs. “Not yet, not yet.”

He must hear Dean’s desperation, because he pulls off immediately. “Okay,” he whispers. He runs his hands along Dean’s thighs, comforting him, calming him. 

Dean grasps Cas’ hands and pulls him up gently. “Kiss me.” 

With a soft, tiny smile, Cas laces their fingers together, then molds his body to Dean’s and leans in, capturing his bottom lip softly between his own. He does it again, then nudges his nose. His eyes are warm, loving. “Come on,” he murmurs. He helps Dean step out of his pants, then tugs him away from the door.

Cas leads Dean to his side of the bed and lowers him gently to sit on the mattress, then backs up to remove his clothes. Before he can even think about it, Dean stands and reaches out, stilling his hands. Cas pauses.

“Let me.” 

Cas nods, biting his lip.

Dean smiles and thumbs his lip until it’s free, just as he’s imagined Cas doing to him. He kisses him slowly, sweetly, as his hands card his hair, skate over his shoulders, and slide down his chest and back. When he finally reaches the waistband of Cas’ pants, he stops. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you,” Cas returns simply. Dean knows it’s true. He feels it in his bones, his blood, his beating heart and quiet brain. 

He kisses him once more, then slides his pants off him, nipping and licking his skin as he follows the clothing to the floor and helps him out of it. He has no underwear on, so his cock is right there, flushed so red it’s almost purple. He wraps a hand and a mouth around it.

It tastes and feels _amazing_. He moans around it. Cas’ fingers grip his hair as he moans and whines in response. 

“Dean, fuck, babe, you...shit, you...please…”

He’s never heard Cas so affected by anything in his life. Even when asshole number two broke up with him, he was able to speak in complete sentences. It drives Dean wild. He hollows his cheeks and sucks.

“Ah, fuck!” Cas cries. 

Dean has to rub his own cock just to get a little relief. 

After a minute of the most blissful blowjob he’s ever given, Cas taps on his face. “Come up here before I shoot my load down your throat.”

“Penis colada? I’m not opposed to that.”

Cas smirks. “Well, I am. I’m not done with you yet, and I sure as hell don’t want you to be done with me.”

Getting to his feet, Dean takes Cas’ face in his hands. “Never gonna be done with you,” he says. He feels Cas melt into his palms. Maybe he needed the reassurance, Dean thinks. Maybe Dean does, too. “Ever gonna be done with me?”

Love in his eyes, Cas shakes his head. “Never.”

Their mouths meet, the rest of their bodies following. Dean’s had lots of naked bodies against his, but none of them ever felt like this. He sits on the bed, taking Cas with him. They make out, much like they did on the couch so many times, only this time it’s all real, all for them. 

The need builds again, even with the tame makeout session—or maybe not so tame, Dean thinks as Cas rolls him to his back and ruts gently against him. Dean hums, pleasantly losing his faculties as the tension climbs higher. 

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas asks, his voice hushed and husky. 

“You,” he answers without pause.

“Specifically, hon.”

He takes a moment to think, though he already knows what he wants. He just wants to make sure Cas would be okay with it. “In me? Is that too much for our first time?”

Cas’ face slowly glows and glows until it’s blinding. “I’d love that.”

Relieved, Dean babbles, “Okay, good. Um, I don’t need a ton of prep, never have, but I do like a couple of fingers to loosen me up, unless you wanna use your mouth, which is fine, too, and it’s been a long time for me so I’m definitely gonna need you to do something, unless you don’t like to prep, then I will. It’s not my favorite to do to myself, but I can if you don’t like it or don’t want to, though I think I remember you saying you have before and were fine with it, but it’s cool either way, whatever. Um, I’m clean, I’ve been getting tested all along, but condoms are in the drawer. Probably expired, dunno, uh, I got plenty of lube, too, but you knew that from all the jerking off we’ve done together, so yeah.”

Looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights, Cas nods. “Um, okay.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, then simultaneously break into laughter. 

“Shit, I'm sorry, that was a lot.” Dean shakes his head at himself.

“It’s okay,” Cas chuckles. “Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” He lies down beside Dean and takes his hand, kissing his knuckles. “Plus I've had to pee for, like, twenty minutes.”

Dean snorts and kisses Cas lightly. “You go, I’ll go, meet back here.”

When Dean’s turn comes, he cleans himself extra carefully, then grabs a towel they don’t care about dirtying. This isn’t his first rodeo. He’s not ashamed about that, but it does make him sad that he can’t give Cas something special, something he hasn’t already done with someone else.

“What?” Cas asks as soon as Dean comes back into the room. 

Dean doesn’t bother trying to hide it or make up excuses. They’ve done enough of that. He slides across the bed, caressing his fingers over Cas’ jaw. “Kinda regretting my slutty ways.”

Cas smiles, scrunching his nose in the way that Dean finds utterly adorable. “Well, I’m about as pure as the driven _over_ snow, so.” He shrugs. “What makes you say that?”

“I wish I had something to give you that I’ve never given anyone, that’s all. I’m not a virgin in...anything.”

Cas pulls him into his arms, kissing his head and smoothing his hand over his back. “I don’t know,” he says after a minute of silence, silence that Dean was certain meant he’d ruined any chance of them having sex thanks to the shitty timing of his personal crisis. “I think you might have one thing you can give me that you haven’t given anyone else. Not that I know of, anyway.”

Intrigued, Dean perks up. “Yeah? What?”

“Don’t make fun of me when I say this.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, Dean teases, “No promises.” He grins and thumbs at Cas’ face to take the edge off the joke.

Shyly, Cas murmurs, “I was just thinking...your love?”

Dean lights up. “Yes! I’m a total love virgin!”

Cas cackles.

“Cas, will you take my virginal heart?”

He expects Cas to make some crack about virgin sacrifices or something, but he smiles gently and puts his hand on Dean’s chest. “If you want me to have it. And only if I can give you mine, too.”

Dean’s breath stutters. “You—you never—”

He shakes his head. “Only you.”

Dean draws Cas into a kiss, his virginal heart on fire.

* * *

Cas never imagined it would be like this.

It’s laughably cliché, but undeniably true. 

He’s had plenty of sex, God knows. Some of it was mediocre, a little of it was bad (yes, there _is_ such a thing as bad sex), a lot of it was good, and a couple of times were...phew, wow. Neither of those were with his boyfriends, notably.

But this, with Dean, is the best sex he’s ever had, and they haven’t even orgasmed yet. Why the hell is this so much better?

There’s Dean’s body, obviously. He’s easily the hottest person he’s been with, ever. He’s not the perfect human specimen yet (thank God, or Cas would probably die), but in another couple of years he thinks Dean will be even hotter (so he’s preparing his Last Will and Testament in his mind). His eyes and his mouth and his hands and his belly and his hips and oh, those legs, and his fucking cock and ass...he really should be put in a museum or something.

There’s his mind, too. He’s so damn smart, and he has the best ideas (like this one, right now, as Dean is sucking down his cock like a pro, and he can’t give a single fuck about Dean not being a virgin because fuck yeah, he’s benefiting from Dean’s experience). 

And then there’s his spirit, his whatever makes him who he is—his sensitivity, his charm, his desire to make everyone happy, his humor, his easygoing way, all the love he gives. 

It’s all of it that makes it so much better, but more than that, it’s the bond between them. They are, quite simply, connected in a way they’ve never been connected with anyone else. Maybe that’s why so many people do desperate things for love. It makes the sex so much better. It makes life so much better.

He’s glad he saved himself—his heart, at least—for Dean.

Cas pulls Dean up and kisses him. “Your turn.” He prompts him to his knees, then leans toward the end table and grabs the lube and a condom. Teaching about safer sex, using a condom is sort of ingrained in him. Maybe, soon, they’ll try without. He’d like to. But everything is so overwhelming as it is, he figures it’s better to keep something familiar. Plus it’s easier to clean up. He’s not sure how Dean feels about his ass leaking semen, cream shot jokes aside.

He did give him a blowjob without a barrier, though, so that was new. And now, he’ll do something else without a barrier. 

“Oh, fuck, Cas,” Dean moans as Cas’ tongue flutters around his hole. “That’s—that’s fuckin’ awesome, been so long…so good...” He pants as Cas hums along his skin, giving him the extra sensation that he knows he enjoys himself (thank you, vibrating toy). 

When he’s suitably undone, Cas presses him to the mattress and snuggles up along his side. He lubes his fingers, then works them in, one and then another, as he kisses Dean’s shoulder and combs his fingers through his hair. He watches Dean’s face flutter and contort into bliss as he finds his prostate (again, thanks vibrating toy and sexuality peer education for that info) and rubs at it.

“Cas, fuck, what are you doing?”

“Working your prostate. Does it feel okay?”

“Fuck yeah...thought mine didn’t wo-o-o-ork.”

Smirking, Cas says, “Works for me.”

Dean shakes and moans in response.

“More? Or something else?”

“In me, babe. C’mon.”

With another kiss to his shoulders, Cas removes his fingers. He rolls the condom on and lubes it up, then adds more lube to Dean’s hole. He drapes himself across Dean’s back. “Ready?”

“Been ready,” he smiles, blissful.

Cas hugs him. “I love you.”

“Love you.” Dean rubs his head against Cas’.

Cas slowly breaches Dean, holding steady until Dean tells him to keep going. When he’s buried deep in his best friend’s—his boyfriend’s—body, he kisses love and encouragement into his skin. Dean giggles breathily. Cas understands the feeling. 

“Go,” he demands.

Cas undulates his hips, keeping a slow but steady rhythm until Dean pushes back against him. He speeds up, and when Dean speeds up too, Cas allows himself to thrust harder and faster. He takes Dean in hand and pumps his cock in time (mostly) to his thrusts; Dean shouts his name and grasps the pillow under him. Sweat slicks the way between them as Cas grinds into him, faster and higher. 

“Fuck, Cas, babe, ohhhh!” Dean cries. Gasping, he comes, clawing at the mattress and staining the sheets since they forgot to lay the towel down. With Dean satisfied and loose, Cas pumps deeper until he, too, comes with a gasp and a sob.

Spent, Cas pulls out, disposes of the condom, and wipes them both with the forgotten towel as fast as he can, all so he can turn Dean over and see his face. Dean is flushed, sweat is dripping from his forehead, and he’s smiling drowsily. Cas presses kisses into his hair, his forehead, his cheeks. 

“Fuckin’ love you, Cas,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Will he ever get sick of hearing it? 

Not in this lifetime.

“I love you, too, Dean.” With a tender kiss to his nose, he adds, “Let’s shower, okay?”

Showering is kept businesslike (if one ever washes and cuddles their business colleagues, anyway), and soon they’re back in bed, sharing one of the many treats Dean made in the last week. Stress cooking, Cas knows now. 

“You really never fell in love before, Cas?” Dean asks quietly. He’s slumping against Cas, dropping crumbs all over the bed, and no, Cas won’t kick him out for it.

“Nope, I never did. Crushes, big cases of _like_ like, but never in love. Never this.”

“Not even Grayson? Or Jordan? You were pretty upset about them. Grayson especially.”

“Nah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the past few months, and honestly, I think that lady I saw those few times at the wellness center was right. Those guys were just stand-ins for my biological father—emotionally unavailable losers who couldn’t have a real relationship if their lives depended on it. Maybe I was working out daddy issues, I don't know. I do know I hated losing their friendships, but now I think it wasn’t them in particular I hated losing, just the friendships themselves. I lost two in the friendship tally, you know? Friendships have always been hard for me. Maybe that’s the dad thing, too, or maybe it’s just my introversion. Thankfully, I have some great friends now.” He kisses Dean’s hair. “Anyway, to answer your question again, no, I never fell in love before you. And you?”

“No. You know that. Too busy fucking around and tryin’ not to fall in love with you.” He huffs a small laugh. “You know, I was gonna tell you I was interested. After Grayson.”

“You were?”

“Yeah. I’d psyched myself up for it.”

“Why didn’t you?” When Dean gives him a withering look, he remembers. “Oh. My brand new no-dating-friends rule.”

“Yup. Your timing sucked.”

“I guess the hell it did. I’m sorry.”

Dean chuckles. “It’s okay. Like I said earlier, it happened when it was supposed to happen, I think. We both needed to grow up and work through some shit. And now”—he turns his head up, and Cas meets his gaze—“we’re in a good place to have the relationship we wanted all along. Right?”

A warm, happy smile spreads along Cas’ face. “Right,” he says, tilting Dean’s chin up and pressing their lips together. “We have a lot of great options ahead of us, don’t we?”

“Sure do, homie.”

“All right, you’ve left me no option now,” Cas growls, disregarding the cookies he knocks over as he straddles Dean’s lap. “Death by tickling!”

“I regret nothing!” Dean crows between gasps as Cas targets all his most ticklish spots.

_Neither do I_ , Cas thinks, falling against his best friend as he pins him down and they start making love all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worth it? XOXO
> 
> Final chapter next week!


	20. Epilogue: The World Is Full of Options (and I Opt for You)

“Hey, babe? Where’s my cap?” Dean calls from the bedroom. 

Cas flicks his eyes to the kitchen table, where Dean’s graduation cap is sitting. He debates telling him versus letting him suffer a little longer. It’s tempting to let him run around a bit, but he knows Dean is stressed enough already.

“On the table.” 

Dean rushes out, looking handsome in his dress shirt, pants, and tie. His eyes alight on the cap. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“I almost didn’t tell you, but you’re already so sweaty.”

Dean flashes him a dour look. Cas grins, and the look melts away.

On their way to the field, Cas rolls the windows down and they sing “Sunflower” at the top of their lungs. Cas glances at his boyfriend, decked out in his blue graduation robe. In a couple more years, it’ll be a black one with funny sleeves. He smiles, knowing he’ll be there for it, and knowing that Dean will be there when it’s Cas’ turn to wear the ridiculous gown. He squeezes his hand. Dean turns and smiles warmly, kissing his knuckles and looking at him with love. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts. 

At the field, they kiss and separate, their names far apart in the alphabet. Everyone is abuzz with excitement—excitement that they’ve made it to this point, excitement for many of them that their academic careers are over, and excitement about all the ways they’ll celebrate later.

Cas is excited, too. He’s worked hard to be here and overcome a lot. He’s looking forward to graduate school—law school, really. Teaching wasn’t for him, he decided, and with Dean’s and his family’s full support, he’s pursuing a law career. He’ll probably specialize in civil rights, but he’s leaving his options open. And as for the way he’ll celebrate after, he thinks of Dean and smiles. 

After a lot of noise and shuffling and perspiring in the beating sun, they proceed to their seats. Cas tunes out the multitude of speeches, instead planning all the ways he’ll fuck around with Dean once their families are gone. 

Finally, it’s time to move.

Hearing his name called is a bit surreal. He hears cheering (he can hear Gabriel _anywhere_ , but Dean’s “Love you, babe!” is the loudest of them all), he shakes hands, he’s given a folder with nothing in it (the official stuff comes in a month or so), he poses for a picture, and he walks off the stage. Four years of his life, culminating in this one moment he probably won’t remember much. 

But he’ll remember all the good things, the important things, of these four years. The friends he made. The lessons he learned. Dean. 

When Dean ascends the stage, Cas shouts “Love you, honey!” as loud as he can, though he’s completely embarrassed to do so. He hates calling attention to himself in that way. He knows Dean appreciates it, though, and he deserves it. Oh, does he deserve it. 

Dean blows a kiss toward the students that he knows is for him. 

When it’s all over, Cas weaves his way through the crowd to his family. His mom and Pup are here, Gabe and his new beau are here, Hannah is here with a friend (quite a friend she is to sit through all _that_ ), and Michael is here, surprisingly subdued. His birth father is nowhere to be seen, which is good, because Cas didn’t invite him, though he’s surprised that Michael kept his mouth shut about it. Or maybe he didn’t, and maybe the guy didn’t show up anyway. Just as well. His grandparents are here, too. He grins widely at them all and gives them hugs, accepting their congratulations. 

“Come on, I want you to meet Dean’s family,” he smiles.

He drags them all with him to the family a few sections over. Despite it being the families’ first time meeting, Cas and Dean leave them to their own devices as they throw themselves into each other’s arms, kissing and murmuring love.

“Don’t hog him!” Cas hears Ellen shout at the same time as his own mother says, “Let go so I can give your boyfriend a hug!”

They part and trade affections with each other’s families until they find their way back to one another’s lips.

“Congratulations!” 

The voice draws their attention to their landlords. “Jilly, Harry, lookin’ good!” Dean exclaims. Still such a charmer.

“Oh, stop,” Jilly laughs. “Happy to see you boys meet your goals.”

“Thanks,” they smile together.

“Wanted you to meet some folks. This is Wendy, my sister, and her boyfriend Don, and this is Chip and his husband Chris. Everyone, this is Castiel and this is Dean. Vaughn lived with them for a while before he moved out.”

Castiel smiles through the handshakes and makes no indication that he knows their story, nor that Vaughn didn’t move out voluntarily. It seems, though, that his caution isn’t needed.

“I’m so sorry about what you all went through,” Wendy says, a small frown gracing her delicate features. 

Dean spreads out his hands. “Water under the bridge,” he declares. Cas is still a little grumbly about it sometimes, but in the end, the right thing was done. Plus, he got Dean out of it all, so he really can’t complain. He smiles and nods, agreeing with Dean’s statement.

“Well, still. I feel bad.”

“It’s not on you, Wendy.”

She smiles at Dean. “Thank you. You two seem very happy. Congratulations.”

Now _that_ is easy to agree with. “We are very happy. Thank you.”

“What are your plans?” Chip asks.

“Graduate school for Dean, law school for me, and years of debt to look forward to.” Everyone shares a hearty chuckle. “We were lucky enough to get some scholarships, though, so that will help. And after school, well, we’ll decide together, like everything else we do.”

“You'll be at the same school?” Wendy asks.

“Oh yeah. Couldn’t tear us apart.” Dean kisses him on the cheek, and Cas turns to him, feeling warm and happy about their future. 

Jilly smiles at the two of them. “Well, we just wanted to say hello. You boys enjoy your family time. We—oh, there he is. Vaughn! Get your ass over here!”

Cas side-eyes Dean as Vaughn shuffles over. He doesn’t look so good. Harry had told them that his living arrangement with Nathan hadn’t worked out and he ended up spending the rest of his semester commuting from his mother’s house. He also mentioned that he lost his job at the registrar’s office because they found out he accessed Dean’s records (thus how he got his dad’s info to contact him about the party) and had no job prospects after graduation. Last Harry knew, he was applying to work at Staples. Nothing wrong with that, but certainly not the grand after-college plans he’d bragged about.

Vaughn stands with his family, a slight frown creasing his face. 

“Hey, Vaughn,” Dean smiles. “Congrats.”

Cas nods and smirks at the young man. “Congratulations on your graduation.” _At least you succeeded at that. Getting us kicked out, not so much._ He winks at Vaughn, then takes Dean’s hand, making the young man twitch. 

“Dean and Castiel are furthering their education together,” Wendy says. “They’ll be at the same school, and they’ll have scholarships and everything! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Maybe that’s something you should consider, since your plans seem to keep falling through,” Jilly says, a hint of goading in her voice covered with faux innocence. “Then you wouldn’t have to live with your mother.”

“Yeah. Can we go?”

“You could say congratulations to the people who put up with your shit for so long, as they were gracious enough to say to you. I’d like to think we taught you _some_ manners,” Chip growls, arms folded. “Go on.” 

Cas rolls his lips together so he doesn’t burst into laughter. Apparently Vaughn’s family has had enough. 

“Congratulations. Can we go now?”

Six pairs of eyes roll at once. “Yes,” Harry sighs. “Dean, Castiel, congratulations again.”

The group says their goodbyes. The handshakes from Chip and Chris are extra-tight, and the hug from Jilly says she knew just what she was doing by calling Vaughn over. Cas hugs a thank you back.

* * *

“I’m sweating my ass off. How do you expect me to carry this thing? It keeps slipping.”

Cas, in his patient, quiet way, tells him to stop bitching and do his job. 

Moving days are always tough, but moving when it’s one of the hottest days of the summer is even worse. They took out their air conditioning unit already, too, so it’s a sauna in the apartment.

The worst part is, they’re not even taking most of the shit they’re hustling out the door with them. 

The beds, which they’ve just packed in Gabe’s truck (without dropping), are going home with him. He’s become serious with the lady he’s been seeing, and she has a kid. The matching dressers are going, too, as are the nightstands and one of the desks. The other desk is going with Hannah. 

The small breakfast table with the stools, the loveseat, the coffee table, the pink end table, and the lamp with the eagle are going to the thrift store. The braided rug in rainbow colors is going to Charlie and Jo. The sawhorses are being stored at Cas’ parents’ place, and the plyboard is going to Harry for a project of his. 

In Dean’s car are boxes of breakables, the TV and game console, and some of their toiletries. Cas has everything else in his truck. 

They’re ready.

“Gonna miss having you so close,” Sam pouts. “Four hours is a lot more than one hour.”

“I know, man, but you know why. We needed a place where we could both go to school, and a city that has job opportunities for both of us.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They hug briefly. “No goodbyes yet. Still gotta get this stuff out and get lunch.” He wipes his eyes quickly, not wanting his brother to see. “Now get out. We gotta do a couple of things.”

Everyone in the apartment—Dean’s mother, brother, Ellen, Bobby, Jo, Charlie, Gabe, Hannah, and Pup—head out to the parking lot, leaving Dean and Cas alone in the empty space. 

“It’s so weird,” Cas says quietly.

“Yeah. A lot happened here.”

Cas smirks. “Sure did.”

Dean swats him. Turned out that there _were_ a couple of other things they were virgins to, and they had fun deflowering each other when they found out.

“Despite all the crap, there was a lot of good here. Great stuff here.” Cas’ voice cracks. Dean gathers him in his arms, and they sway.

“Yeah. We had our first date here.”

“Mmm. Good times with friends.”

“Yeah.”

“I told you I love you here.”

Dean holds him closer, breathing in the smell of sweat and dust and cheap shampoo. “One of the best days of my life.”

“Mine too. After I stopped shitting my pants and started talking. Fuck, I was nervous.”

“You and me both, sweetheart. Hell, at least you could talk. I let you do it all ’cause I was a chicken shit.”

“Thanks for that.”

“No problem.” 

He kisses Cas’ damp hair, then takes his hand. They take one last walk, peeking in each room and reminiscing. They wipe their tears as they smile and laugh. Finally, they find themselves at the door. 

“Bye, apartment 93,” Dean says. “Thanks for everything.”

They’re pleasantly surprised to learn that Gabe, Sam, Charlie, and Jo ran the thrift store items there and will meet them for lunch (less moving of heavy shit is always a pleasant surprise, Dean thinks). The others leave to get a table, so Dean and Cas stop by the rental office one more time.

The goodbye to Jilly and Harry is much tearier than anyone expected. “You boys come back around and visit if you’re in the area,” Jilly demands. They promise they will. Sam will be starting college at their alma mater, and Charlie and Jo will still be there for graduate school—but even if they weren’t, they’d make a special stop anyway. They say goodbye to Mr. Noodle, Vaughn’s ferret, while they’re there. Jilly and Harry hadn’t been happy that Vaughn got a pet, but when he moved out, they took the ferret and he’s been their office mascot ever since, getting a proper name, all the chicken he wants, and way more attention than he got from Vaughn. They leave with one final hug for Jilly and Harry, then drive away wistfully, leaving their first apartment behind.

At lunch, they share a lot of laughs with their families and talk about their hopes for what’s ahead. It’s good. It’s all good. 

But it’s still hard to say goodbye.

“Behave yourself and have an awesome time at school,” Dean tells Sam. “No booze. You’re not old enough.”

“Pfft. You’re one to talk.”

“I am one to talk. From experience. Just...take it easy, okay? Be smart and be safe.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Don’t insult me. I’m just lookin’ out for you.”

The brothers chuckle before Dean is hugged by his mom. “They get you for Thanksgiving and we get you for Christmas, okay?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” She kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll miss you. I’m proud of you.”

He receives similar messages from Ellen and Bobby, Dean’s sort-of uncle and Ellen’s new boyfriend. _That’s_ taken some getting used to.

Saying goodbye to Charlie and Jo is tough, too.

“You’d better come to visit,” Jo warns him. Dean glances over at Cas, fairly certain he’s getting the same threat. 

“We will. Can’t say when, but we will. Promise.”

“Good. You guys be good to each other, ‘kay?”

He smiles. “That we can do.”

Charlie tackles him a minute later, squealing and crying and hugging the life out of him. “You guys love each other so hard. Cas was over there telling me how happy he is.”

Grinning, Dean says, “Same.”

She backs up and slaps his bicep. “All right, get out of here before I shackle you two in the laundry room.”

“Prison porn!” Cas shouts to them, cracking Dean up and confusing everyone else.

With more hugs and waves, the couple bid goodbye to Dean’s family and their friends. 

* * *

The building is a three-family in a quiet neighborhood, close to the university they’ll be attending but far enough to feel like the adults they are. They’re about an hour from Cas’ mom and Pup, and even closer to Gabe and Hannah, who both live and practice law a few towns over. Cas is hoping for an internship with one of them, or maybe somewhere completely new. He has options.

Dean has options, too. He’s specializing in molecular biology, and when he graduates, he’ll be employable at one of the many labs in the area. 

His best option, though, is the man next to him.

They’re standing in their new living room, their eyes falling on the mix of their few old things and mostly new things, thanks to Cas’ mom and Pup, who insisted on buying their furniture (and this time, Cas didn’t turn them down). 

“It’s still weird,” Cas says, repeating his words from the morning.

“Yeah. But it’s good. Right?”

“Right.”

Dean takes his hands and holds them tightly. “We said senior year would be the best year of our lives. Didn’t exactly go as we wanted.”

“Not quite.”

“Turned out great, though.”

“It did.”

“So, here we are again—school, our own place. Best years of our lives?”

Cas draws him into a long, soft kiss. “They’re all the best years, as long as I’m with you.”

They kiss again, smiling and lingering as they gaze at each other. One of these days, Dean’s going to propose option M, and in a few years, maybe they’ll have one or two little option Cs running around. But for now, he’s happy with option Cas, and excited for all the options to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I want to thank you for reading. I truly appreciate all of you. You had many options, and you chose to read this through to the end. I hope your options in your lives are wonderful ones. 
> 
> I love chatting with you, so feel free to say hi in the comments or on Twitter, Tumblr, or the Profound Bond Discord (tag me to get my attention, ha ha...my head is often in fic so I don't spend a ton of time on any SM sites). I'm afraid I'm not very exciting on any of those sites, but feel free to follow if you'd like. Also, if you liked this and are so inclined, feel free to check out the rest of my work and subscribe if I tickle your fancy. 
> 
> Here's what's coming up from me next!
> 
> -A fun story for the Harlequin Bang challenge (coming soon)  
> -An intriguing story about Dean and Castiel, a man who comes to town and may or may not be what he seems  
> -My FicFacers 2020 story (oh yeah, I'm doing FicFacers again this year if you want to check it out!)  
> -A little Twitter co-writing experiment I'm playing with in my head  
> And more!
> 
> See you soon, lovelies!


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